


The Ark of Times Overlapping

by Illidria, stellarparallax



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Adventure & Romance, Alternate Universe, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Long Live Feedback Comment Project, Treasure Hunting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-08
Updated: 2018-03-08
Packaged: 2019-03-28 13:25:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 27,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13904922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Illidria/pseuds/Illidria, https://archiveofourown.org/users/stellarparallax/pseuds/stellarparallax
Summary: Zosimos Miles had grown old over the years, as one does. His legs stopped working like they were ought to, his love had left to rest in Ishvalas bosom. But there were things still, that needed to be found and saved and he'd be damned if he did not find someone to carry on his legacy.





	1. You know, a hug would have sufficed

**Author's Note:**

  * For [InkuisitivSkins](https://archiveofourown.org/users/InkuisitivSkins/gifts).



> Hello Dylan :D
> 
> Now, as today is your Birthday, your present will be uploaded :D  
> This one came to be by the way, because stellarparalax approached me, setting up a collaboration ;) So keep on the lookout!
> 
> And to all others (and you of course too, Dylan!): I hope you have fun with this :D

“And that’s when I fell in love!”

His grandfather winked at the laughing crowd, looking smart in his suit, though the wheelchair was something Miles had to get used to.

Had readily accepted his favourite grandfather’s birthday invitation, though curiously not held at the families’ home in Ishval, like it usually was. Instead they’d gathered at Central Cities Museum of Science, among the guests basically people of every branch of science, reaching from linguists to chemists. And to Miles amazement, they were all getting along too.

“Professor Miles, really, what will your grandson think?!”

His eyes drawn to the woman speaking, though they rarely strayed from her anyways.

Olivier Mira Armstrong, two doctorate degrees in front of that in official papers, was a sight to behold as always. Wore high-waisted pants, a long row of golden buttons on the fly matching the thin bracelet she wore, the white blouse making her outfit seem suitable for this event, though the rolled-up sleeves gave her an air of ease at the same time.

Also wore a smile on her face, the humorous kind. Knew how his grandfather meant these words, though the man laughed at her faux exasperation.

“That he better hurry! This damn fool…”

His own reply coming promptly, mortified.

“Grandpa!”

The old man grumbled.

“Well, I’m right! I’m telling you boy, if I were forty years younger…”

Olivier saving him from further embarrassment, looking exasperated again. Her voice full of mirth though, drawing the crowd’s attention.

“And me twenty years older! Really Professor Miles, what is it with you today?”

His grandfather quick to reply. Had told him often how much he enjoyed the company of the oldest of the younger Armstrong’s. Always keen on reminding Miles that _he_ seemed to enjoy her company too.

“It is my eightieth birthday dear, let me have a bit of harmless fun! I can’t help Javed being a fool in that one regard after all!”

Her laughter masking the last of his grandfather’s words, saving _him_ from further embarrassment too. Liked to imagine that there was a blush gracing her cheeks, though the prospect alone was at the same time enough to make him nervous beyond believe.

“Zosimos Miles! I command you to attend to your other guests and leave your poor grandson alone for once!”

Her voice strict, cold, commanding, though the overall effect suffered by the bit of laughter he could still hear.

His grandfather laughing it off, though answered in the same kind of tone, seeming like he’d so many years ago went with the military and not with the scholars.

“It will be my pleasure Miss Armstrong, though I have one demand!”

Watched as Olivier inclined her head, blonde hair hiding their faces from him, though the words were easy to hear.

“If I have to leave my grandson alone, I need you to keep an eye out for him!”

Heard her laughter, though there was now definitely a blush to her face.

Miles feeling somewhat guilty at that, knowing full well that his grandfather had embarrassed her just now. Told her as much, when the man let himself be pushed forward by someone, leaving them to talk amongst themselves.

“Olivier, I’m sorry for my grandpa, he’s always…”

Her blush having ceased, humour again at the forefront. Wondered how many glasses of champagne she’d already downed.

“Oh please, Miles! I’ve known Zosimos since when now? That one lecture on east-xingese culture? When he…”

Laughed, feeling glad and sad at the same time that his grandfather’s words were just a show of humour to her. Could not possibly know that the old man truly wanted them to become a pair, was hounding Miles with questions concerning their relation since he’d seen them together for the first time.

“Please, don’t remind me of the whole fireworks-fiasco!”

Her laughter not at all like bells, deep rather, husky.

Chuckled along with her, knowing full-well that the incident must’ve looked hilarious from the outside. Yet not keen to remember that he had to go shirtless in front of the whole class, because of a small fire burning happily away at his shirt.

“Good job to get me to remember it Miles! Though I still don’t understand why you’re still so flustered about the whole issue? Because I can tell you, all the females in class, and some of the guys too, had a big crush on you afterwards!”

It now being his turn to chuckle, though he felt the heat rush to his cheeks at her statement, fully aware that it hadn’t been _all_ females.

“Because I was on fire in front of a bunch of people Olivier. Buccaneer had to extinguish me with a jacket!”

Her voice deadpan, having him shut up for a moment.

“Please, like anybody was thinking about that after just having seen your abs!”

Took a few moments to think, their conversation halted while she took a sip of her drink, him busy with being dumbfounded. Could not reply, neither brashly nor tentatively, because Solf Kimblee pushed past them, greeting Olivier shortly in passing.

As soon as the man was out of earshot, she made a face and voiced her disdain.

“You know why this asshole’s here?!”

Shrugged, glad for the change of topic.

“Part of the faculty since a few months. The Dean took him on as personal assistant or something.”

Her eyes slitting, searching for the man’s white-clad back in the crowd.

“I’m pretty sure he’s illegally selling artefacts. Got no proof as of yet though.”

Which meant something more than professional malevolence coming from her, as she was the kind of person rather happy for others in their success.

But it was an idea not too out of this world. Kimblee graduated about two years before them, had not lived in absolute poverty but from loans. It had always been clear that he did not come from a wealthy background either. And yet, after only two years in the field, not even a major scholarship awarded to him that anybody knew of, he was visibly wealthy.

“What gives you the idea?”

He wasn’t contesting her opinion, felt himself that the man was shady. But before Olivier Armstrong said such things in this kind of environment, she usually had more than just a mere hunch.

“Went to the lands between Drachma and Amestris a few weeks ago, border region, Pefskey and Ebafocum and the likes.”

Nodded, indicating that he knew the place and area she was talking about. She’d snatched a discovery from him there after all, two years ago.

“There’ve been news of a fossil in a cave, found by the regions natives. They wanted people to take a look at it, though without taking it away or damaging the find.”

Furrowed his brows, knowing before she said it, that there was a not-so-well conclusion to this little tale.

“Halfway to the cave, we were met by those having volunteered to guard the place. They told of having been ambushed and that the fossil was gone.”

Saw the lingering anger in her form, less than her usual bear-like demeanour and more like a tigress, ready to pounce on her prey.

Olivier had only studied anthropology as a minor, instead had majored in palaeontology. Had always been meticulous with respecting the culture she was moving around in, only having landed inside of the whole treasure-hunting-spiel because of her rather particular set of skills.

But whatever people said, Miles knew that her major was, what her heart was set on.

“It was chipped clean off, you need skill to do that. Skill and good tools. And I’ll give you three guesses as to whom fits the description of a man seen in the area?”

Let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Harrumphed then, memories fighting over being put into words first.

“Fits what I heard and know about the guy. Some relic shows up, he’s seen close by and _boom_ , it’s gone. I’m at eastern too often, but Mustang said that since he’s working here, theft at the storage-level increased. Nothing you could link to Kimblee of course…”

Their suspicions hanging in the air between them, until Olivier took a deep breath, shaking her head.

“Well, we’ll have to keep an eye on him, but I guess there’s little more we can do at the moment. How’s life treating you besides the usual lack of funding?”

He raised a brow at that.

“Know anything that’s to find then? Something you don’t want me to know about?”

She laughed.

“Oh, come on, you’re always hot on my heels when some big news drop!”

Which was somewhat true, though it often enough was the other way around too.

Buccaneer, Olivier and he had become friends during their studies at North City University, had all majored in different fields. But in the end, they’d all ended up as parts of the treasure-hunting scene, though he was proud that they all were the kind that recovered lost artefacts and gave them back to the people or places having a valid claim to them, instead of selling them for their personal gain.

All of them having different specialities and jobs too, though they often enough ended up at the same places.

“And I got the upper hand sometimes too! So, be honest, what is it you’re looking for?”

She sighed, was silent for a moment, which piqued his interest. Olivier Mira Armstrong was decisive to say the least, did not wait around longer than she needed to make up her mind. Any kind of hesitation was rare, her voice fittingly low when she spoke.

“There’s talk of a footprint in Ishval, not matching those of any living animal.”

He crooked his head to the side.

“You say living like it’s important to note that?”

She looked from side to side, checking if somebody was listening in.

It made him notice with a small start, that they were far from the many guests by now, which had moved towards the salon again. His heart skipping a beat at the fact that they were alone.

“The footprint is not unlike that of a xingese giant salamander, but decidedly bigger.”

His eyes narrowed, his mouth hanging open for a small moment before he responded, his knowledge about the land he grew up in barrelling forth.

“There are no giant salamanders in Ishval. We only have very small desert salamanders and they’re not water-dwelling either. We caught them as kids, for fun. Do you think a specimen wandered into Ishval?”

Her hair shaking in tune with her head.

“They’d have to cross the whole of Xing first, and they’re not made for walking long distances anyway. And the place is so out of the way, lacking an oasis or something of that sort either. When I first got a replica of the footprint, I said that it looks like one we have of a Koolasuchus, but that’s even more unlikely.”

Miles rooting through his brain, through all of her sketches from different animals he’d seen. Trying to remember if he ever read about such a thing as a Koolasuchus, coming up empty.

“Why is it unlikely?”

Her slight smirk telling him that she caught on to his lack of knowledge.

“Koolasuchus went extinct millions of years ago. You could think of it as a prehistoric kind of crocodile, though what we found suggests that is looks more like the species of big salamanders we know today.”

Knew what she wanted to do, not feeling like a fool at his unknowingness at all. Instead could now better understand why this was such a mystery. Also, why it piqued her interest so much.

“You want to go and investigate? Find out where the footprint came from?”

She nodded.

“The guy who made the replica is a local, found it by wandering through the region and instantly noticing that it did not fit with the local fauna. But the thing seems to be legit, so I want to go and take a look.”

“Will North City U sponsor the trip?”

Money was always an issue for all of them, funding, or rather the lack of, problematic at best. Olivier was, when it concerned research of the palaeontological kind, fairly well off, as public interest was high. But it had to be almost certain the she’d find something worthwhile for her to get the money needed for a full excavation and search of the side.

And this did not seem to fit the category, her mouth settling into a thin line.

“No, say they’re sure it’ll yield no results. That it’s either an animal that has wandered further than expected, or that it’s an abandoned specimen that somehow survived the harsh conditions.”

Knew such sentences, though as his research was different, they were full of other nonsense. Things like “who cares about some ancient drachman tribe?” and “listen, if these people were not by any chance our forefathers, nobody will listen to you!” he heard way too often.

“But you’ll find another way?”

Thought about how they still often managed to wind up in places, hunting for artefacts, despite nobody but themselves funding them. They all had private sponsors too, or were approached by people descendent from the culture, enabling them to go and get a hold of things that were thought to be lost.

Had successes at their back, the remains of an until then mythical civilization found beneath the forests of Aerugo, statues and ceremonial jewellery brought to the safety of a museum before those hunting for money got their hands on any of it.

Leaving them with an empty saving account, bruises and a big smile on their faces.

“A magazine approached me some time ago, wanted sketches of certain dinosaurs and how we today think they might have looked. I declined at first, I’m drowning in work as it is, but they pay well.”

Her shrug telling him that she was not happy about that though, knowing her to always having been fickle when it came to describe how those ancient beings she was enamoured with looked. Hated with a passion the wrong pictures often shown to kids, just so certain kinds looked cooler. And was always hesitant to draw the ancient beasts as such, just because she couldn’t be completely sure _how_ they’d looked.

Wanted to say something, talk some more with her, every word so easy today, when the sound of a wheelchair on stone tiles had them turn around.

His grandfather nearing them, smart in his suit, his white hair short and his beard trimmed.

Was looking at them intently, smiling, though Miles could not help the gnawing feeling in the pit of his stomach. Felt a bit like he had as a kid, caught when doing things, he knew were forbidden. Stood straight though, pushing his shoulders back and once again feeling self-conscious in the ill-fitting tux he wore.

“I already wondered where you two had gone!”

Inwardly sighed, knowing the expression, the wide grin, too well.

His thoughts almost halted though, when Olivier opened her mouth to speak, his grandfather holding up a hand instead, silently bidding her not to.

“I hoped to catch you two alone today, actually. So just listen for a moment.”

Had their attention without question, both listening intently.

“You know that I can’t go on big adventures any more, not since my legs demand that I use this thing,” almost softly patted the wheels of the wheelchair. “And I know what you’re thinking now Javed, that I should not drown in self-pity and that I have a lot of other things, but that won’t help me missing it.”

Hadn’t noticed that his mouth had opened to speak, though his unsaid words were silenced by his grandfather. Pressed his lips tightly together, ignoring Olivier’s stifled snort to his left.

“But there’s something I can still do and that’s send you two on a hunt. I’ve come into the possession of a few pieces of evidence, that the so-called “Ark of Ishvala” is somewhere in the region in which also the Kanda mountains are.”

Miles gasping at that, Olivier also, all that even remotely were interested in things thought to be lost knowing about the Ark.

Nobody was sure what it was in and of itself, if it were ritual artefacts or maybe ancient texts, but the Ishvalan culture treated it like an important piece of history. It was mentioned well over a hundred times in the temples main-text, though not even that gave you any clue as to what it was exactly.

Miles liked to think that it was one of those mysteries everybody knew in days long past, so well even, that nobody ever thought that there may be a time when people did not know about it, as such never written down properly.

His grandfather talking on, voice level, like he was telling them a compelling story.

“I wanted to ask Mustang to join the hunt too, but with the little mite now on the way, he said he was indisposed. Which means that I want you two to go on the hunt, separately. I managed to weasel a bit of funding out of Bradley, my evidence strong enough to constitute two accomplished scholars to go and investigate. He seemed almost eager, I might say.”

Zosimos Miles, the man he spent most of his childhood with, loved with all his heart, rearranged himself in his chair.

“And yes, I can already hear you Miss Armstrong, you’re not a full-blooded anthropologist. But you showed time and time again that you tread carefully around pasts that are not yours, that you care about doing the right thing. And when I remember correctly, you always enjoyed a bit of competition, haven’t you?”

Had almost not noticed that Olivier next to him had moved to speak, also silenced by his grandfather’s words.

“So, I give you two this,” the man in front of them pulling envelopes out of his jacket and handing them over. „It’s what evidence I have, as well as the first riddle to get you on track. Nothing like a bit of mystery surrounding things, huh? Any questions?”

Their mutual one coming out at the same time, almost breathless.

“ _Why_?!”

His grandfather chuckling.

“Because I can, because the time has come, only Ishvala knows. But I have faith that one of you at the very least will crack this nut of a riddle I gave you and the rest of the evidence will show how good you are at what you do. It is one of you two that will be able to get behind this secret, one nobody else has been able to find out.”

“And when we find things, or maybe nothing, what would you have us do then, Zosimos?”

Olivier asking what his mind was struggling to put into coherent words.

“Present me with what you have found at midsummer. Yes, that should be enough time for at least one of you to do what I can’t anymore. And now: make your arrangements, get ready! I firmly believe that one of you will be the most famous adventurer of our time when midsummer rolls around!”

The man so very cheerful, while the two of them were still dumbfounded.

Was planning already, knew that he’d have to ask for vacation time. And he’d have to call Buccaneer, the man surely able to help him with what was to come. If he found the Ark, could unravel this ages-old riddle…

The people coming closer again, the party having moved back into their direction. Kimblee passing them from behind, the crowd coming from the front. His thoughts taking up every ounce of concentration he possessed, the possibilities endless to him.

Almost overheard his grandfather’s last words spoken about the matter.

“The loser will get a fine bottle of Brandy as a solation!”


	2. The window is a pain

It was may, yet North City was as cold as ever.

Miles had of course packed his coat, had pulled it on before getting out of the train half an hour ago. His trusty leather-backpack scrapping against the fur of his collar, blissfully warm against his skin. He'd put on his shades, the kind many used in this region: snow-blindness googles. Had been prone to it, needed them to protect his eyesight, the words from _her_ forever stuck in his mind, though their days of studying here were long ago.

_"I hate those damn glasses Miles, they hide you!"_

Had not known how she'd meant these words back then and neither did he know now.

But he knew what his grandpa’s riddle wanted him to do, where he needed to go. Had boarded the next train north as soon as he'd understood it all, the destination clear: North City Section Library of Cultures and Languages.

He'd studied in North City, anthropology and archaeology, as well as drachman and cretan speech. And he'd spend more than just a considerable amount of time in this library, alongside many other students of his fields, because it was the best-heated building on the campus. Instead of many small libraries, sections clearer cut, North City University had decided to re-purpose an old government building. It was heated through the warm water of the springs beneath it, running through its walls. Many small rooms, several floors, inviting all to stay during the long hours it was open to the public.

Some of his best memories he'd made here, a few of the more questionable ones, too. But he'd always be able to identify the unique shelf-marks of the place from a mile away.

He'd need to look the book in question up, placed in the small room designated to literature concerning the Ishvalan culture. While walking through the streets remembering fondly how he'd always been drawn to this room in particular, not just for the homey feel of belonging, but also because it was almost deserted at all times. The desk for four in there had been his alone for quite a while, until a black-haired log of a man had joined him when the second semester rolled around. A certain blonde barging in a few weeks later, wondering why there was so little on the shelves.

He'd soon started to educate her that much of Ishvalan history and customs was passed down through the generations orally. They only told old stories and tales, many never written down, drawings and paintings in their houses of prayer too existing to preserve their history. And from the art-department she somehow managed to have some stuff relocated then, the shelves fuller by the day, each signature seemingly ingrained into his brain.

And not long after she started to sit with them, a fixed part of their group.

They'd been friends, the best of friends in Buccaneers and his case, Armstrong instead having always felt like a big question mark. Not that he'd ever questioned her loyalty, but she was ambiguous still, her intentions, feelings and motives never as clear to him. As such, he'd somewhat lost contact with her after they'd graduated, only having met her again in the deep forests of Aerugo, when searching for signs of a forgotten civilization.

She'd stood there, clad in fitting khakis and a tank-top, her long blonde hair in a high ponytail.

And not two seconds later she'd started to abseil into a hole in the ground, not having seen him yet at all, looking calm and collected. He'd learned a few minutes later that this was the place his expertise was needed, that back in the day people had lived in these caves beneath the forest. Had been abseiled not long after, hastily fitted into climbing equipment, so startled by her shouted greeting when he descended into the cave that he landed less than gracefully.

Her laughter had shaken him then, her tight embrace.

He'd after their first meeting always felt like he'd been kneed in the gut when confronted with her. Felt like his heart swelled to unbearable size when she was away. Soon he'd understood that he was crushing on her, hard, later able to admit to himself that it was more than just that. And this being enamoured had not lessened much over the years apart, instead flaring up when she’d held him tight, greeting him enthusiastically. They'd worked together for two weeks, the notion that she'd specifically asked for him even now making his head spin.

And during the last three years they'd met often, sometimes during the more adventurous searches for the treasures of civilizations too.

She'd found the thought-to-be-lost amber-wainscoting of Birgitta the fourteenth, a cretan Queen, first, already securing the treasure when he arrived.

But it was him that had snatched the ages-old necklace of an Ishvalan High-Priest from right under her nose, she literally arriving when he'd just picked the piece of jewellery up. Had been out of breath, and not too amused, but not crestfallen either.

Had gotten back at him in Drachma a year later, finding a tribal-ritual-cave, while he was still poking about aimlessly in the snowy landscape.

And they'd both been in Ishval at a dig side, when it was him that uncovered the walls of a city nobody had been entirely sure even existed. Though that had been a win for both of them, as in one of the foundations of a house she’d found a fossil, apparently a keepsake of the family that used to live there.

All in all, their lives were constantly overlapping, even now.

Was not sure if she maybe was already in North City, as she was a part of the faculty there. Or if he’d maybe beaten her to it, his preparations over quick as he’d already been on vacation to visit his grandfather in Central any-ways.

Jogged up the stairs to the library, shedding his jacket and locking in his back-pack, journeying through several stories full of books and moaning students. It was exam-time, the mood was quiet desperation and he felt a smile come to his face at the thought that he’d gotten through that phase of his life fairly unscathed. Instead felt memories surging up when walking through the long hallways, of laughter and tears, of breaks spend on the roof and coffee, sneaked past the librarians at the well-placed desks.

That one time when he’d walked through this hallways with Olivier, a day before their graduation-ceremony, jokingly playing with her a downgraded version of truth or dare. How he’d dared her to do something she always wanted to try, just to be pulled inside of the usually deserted room where the books on xerxian history were stored.

How she’d pressed her lips to his, tingling from the memory alone.

When he’d been able to open his eyes back then, she’d been gone, two blonde teens looking at him wide-eyed. At the ceremony a day later, he’d not gotten out more than a few words, thought that maybe she’d regretted what she’d done the second she’d done it. As such, he’d not called, had kept to himself. And when she greeted him so many years later in Aerugo, he’d thought that he’d gotten over her.

Seeing her now, standing in the small room designated to Ishvalan history, he knew he’d probably never be.

Should have known that she’d beat him to the North, having lived and travelled from here for the past year. Was standing in one of the rows of shelves, right in front of a window, book in hand, dressed in a pair of thermo-leggings typical for northern students and workers, and an oversized sweater. Her hair bound in a loose ponytail, the curled forelock having escaped. Reading glasses sitting on the very tip of her nose, her lips moving while she read.

The expletive rolled from his tongue, because of her having beaten him here, or because she still was the owner of his heart, he did not know.

“Fuck!”

A chorus of shushing noises being heard from all the rooms near and far, one person calling out “my sentiment exactly!”, heat rushing to his cheeks.

Her mouth a smile though, a row of perfect white teeth showing, eyebrows raised so high that they were almost vanishing in her hairline.

He stepped up to her, so he could hear her whispered words.

“Wondered when you’d arrive!”

His eyes scanning the book in her hands shortly, though he knew that she had the right one.

The envelope his grandfather had given him had been filled with several sheets of paper. On them was the man’s research into the matter of the Ark, some of it from a time when Zosimos Miles still had been a young man himself. The newer information’s were very recent though, which had him wonder where his grandpa had gotten them from so suddenly.

To Miles knowledge nobody had investigated the matter of the Ark in the last ten years or so after all.

“And I should’ve known that you’d be here before me. What’s your secret?”

Her snort a toned-down version of the usual one, as she seemingly feared her very own shushing-chorus.

“The overnighter that departs at ten in the evening. For some reason it’s always faster than the one departing at seven. Not angering the students on your way in helps too.”

Almost missed her wink, was unsure what to do for a moment.

His grandfather’s notes had ended with a small riddle to “keep them on their toes”. He’d expected something like that, understood that the man probably was at least somewhat bummed that he did not get to go on this adventure. It would be fun and exciting, even if he found nothing. And a sensation if he found what was basically a cornerstone of the culture he hailed from.

This riddle had led him here, to this book, to a certain page in it.

“Let me guess: You found the book already?”

Was painfully aware that the riddle had let him to her, too.

“It was you that taught me the shelving-system after all, don’t forget that!

“Will I have to wait, or can I look too?”

Her hand waving him over, though upon the close contact hesitation bloomed. Knew that he could not let it show, got next to her instead, assaulted by the smell of bitter coffee and hair washed with vanilla-scented shampoo.

The page in question already open, the book written in Ishvalan, but thankfully not the ancient kind.

His curiosity getting the better of him.

“And, did he choose the most hellish riddle possible? That would be like him.”

A snicker quickly silenced by her.

“No, the text is actually going on about an old family that started their business and became known for selling lion-pelts. They got their surname from that and kept it, even though their business changed later on. The author calls it curious by the way, that the women in the family always have exactly two sons and no other children.”

Scanned over the page, his shoulder pushing a bit into hers, though he could look onto the page easily.

She was right with her quick translation, her Ishvalan always having been good. When they’d been in the same classes she’d sometimes written him notes in the signs he’d learned from his grandpa as a child. When people intercepted them, they rarely understood a thing.

“So, we have to find the remainder of the family?”

Olivier shaking her head, almost knocking the glasses from his face.

She looked at them almost angrily, whispering.

“Didn’t I tell you that I hate these?! Take them off, in here your eyes are safe!”

Did so, feeling heat rush to his cheeks and forcing it down.

Hated that she still had such an effect on him, even after the years gone by. Wanted nothing more than to move on, fiend someone nice that shared some of his passions. Maybe not travel alone for a change, any excavation longer than a week always evoking a feeling of loneliness inside of him.

“To repeat my question…”

Her huff audible, though she did him the favour of answering now.

“No, I don’t think that’s it. When what’s written here is right, the family would have too many members for us to research anyways. But do you see these?”

Almost smacked the book into his face, pointing at the smallest red dots he’d ever seen. It always were two, sometimes only under one letter, sometimes stretching under four. They looked like the so-called “marks of Ishvala” to him, the kind you could find in every hand-written prayer.

“These are marks of Ishvala. At least they look like those.”

And idea coming to him before she could do much more than open her mouth.

“Maybe we’re supposed to read it like one would a prayer with these then?”

His excitement at a possible solution seemingly having spilled over to her.

“So, we leave out anything outside of the marks?! Very good!”

Saw her pull out a sheet of paper and a pen, leaning over the table and looking at him expectantly.

He tried to focus on the book in front of him and read out row after row of syllables.

She spoke quietly, in whispered tones, stretching his name.

“Miles, these sound like numbers!”

After five minutes, him leaning over the table next to her, they had a row of just that neatly organized, forming what looked like coordinates.

He whispered, their shoulders touching.

“So, there it is, that’s where we need to go!”

Her snort so close to his ear, her body bumping into his.

“And I assume we’ll meet those guys there, the ones mentioned in the book?”

Faced her, their noses maybe an inch apart, just like when they’d sat at this desk, studying, trying not to get killed by the other students for their stifled laughter.

“Descendants at least, though I know a few from the family.”

“The infamous kind?”

It being his turn to snort.

“You could say that.”

Her eyes up this close so very blue that it was hard to tear his gaze away.

They were one of her most striking features, hard to miss. And even though he usually took a while to truly notice someone’s eye-colour, hers practically assaulted you. The shade was that of a frozen lake, the ice thin and the water below freezing. Was drowning already, felt himself inch closer.

A book falling not far from them, having them straighten instantly.

Another chorus of shushing went through the hallway.

“So, we’re gonna compete again from now on?”

Olivier seeming to be at ease, probably not having even noticed his awkwardness. Or simply thinking that he was always awkward.

He spoke while copying the numbers from her sheet of paper.

“Well, it’s a big thing to find the Ark, if we even find it. My grandpa did not bet us…”

Her cutting in, forcing him to look up, the finished note on the desk. She was leaning against the windowsill again, the light from behind making her seem ethereal.

“Well, how about we make our own bet?”

His eyebrows shot up, as did one corner of his mouth.

“Really, one prize is not enough for you Olivier? Since when you got so greedy?”

She scoffed, though he knew that it was in good humour.

“Listen to me: We play truth or dare one last time. You know, just because being here makes me nostalgic.”

He nodded, silently urging her to talk on, feeling unable to.

“Whoever gets to the Ark first, gets to ask the other a question, or dare them something, which the other must answer truthfully, or, in case of a dare, do!”

Squirmed a little, a question shooting through his mind that had been there for years now, though also a bad gut-feeling arising.

“Aren't we grown-ups, able to ask the other questions without doing something like that?”

Her smirk expected.

“So, you're a chicken?”

He sighed.

“You have yourself a deal Olivier, but only because I’m sure you wouldn’t let me leave without one.”

Had what he wanted and needed to go on, the next step on his way surely not an easy one. Grabbed his notes, re-shelved the book and silently bowed before Olivier, whispering once more.

“I’ll see you where Ishvala’s burning gaze is the strongest then.”

A laugh escaping her, audible enough for someone to shush.

“I’ll wait for you there.”

Her wink making him smile, though the angry gazes of the students followed him until he was out of the door, the notes in his backpack.

Quickly stepped down the stairs of the library, the snowfall having grown heavier, putting back on the snow-blindness googles. Drew in the crisp air, exhaled, and despite his conflicting feelings about her, about these riddles from his grandfather, he smiled.

Started on his way towards the train-station, ready to catch the next train south. Planned in his head already, knew where to go, whom to search for. And thought of someone he might need if he wanted to find the Ark and to win the answer of a long thought-about question.

The change slipping easily into the machine, though to establish the connection took a while. The voice on the other end of the receiver gruff and sleepy.

“Hello?!”

A smile coming to his face.

“Hey Buccaneer, it’s me, Miles. Interested in an adventure?”


	3. At least it's a dry heat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Italics are Ishvalan

It was a good thing that he liked the heat.

The sun seemed to be especially set on scorching the Ishvalan lands beneath his feet today, the baldachins of the market-stalls offering only little respite. Those selling water and sweet drinks were basically mugged, the people forced to a halt in the walkways of such merchants. He weaselled through though, people greeting him on both sides of the narrow walkways.

Some he knew, to some he was a face known, his deeds for the Ishvalan culture not going uncared for by everybody. Maybe some also raised their hands in greeting because it was clear that he was an Ishvalan that did not completely grow up here, his clothing different from those of the people around him.

The average Ishvalan was fond of lofty pants and a kameez, wrap-dresses being the norm for most women. Sometimes the men wore shirts made of linen, their arms often bare, depending on job, standing, age and preference. Sometimes the women wore what the men usually would, or the other way around, nobody batting an eye at that.

But his pair of jeans, sturdier than the average ishvalan pair of pants, his dark-blue V-neck shirt and the leather pouches put onto his belt, had him stand out.

Felt the eyes following him then as he walked past spices and wooden toys, as well as cloth and jewellery. Pushed himself past vendors loudly praising their wares, be it backed goods, meat or socks. Had a certain store in mind, had almost laughed when he saw to which family his grandpa had sent him.

Wondered a bit still, why he'd not given Olivier and him simply the coordinates of their destination, instead having them jump through one hoop after another.

Maybe had not wanted to part with his planned trial, even when Mustang had excused himself from the competition. Or feared that the wrong people could get a hold of the information if he carried it around in his jacket that day, his grandfather having grown a bit more paranoid since sitting in the wheelchair, not as able to protect himself as he once was.

Most likely it just filled him with glee to send them across the country.

Spotting the man he was searching for under a green and white-striped baldachin, a smile came to his face, while his eyes scanned the proximity for a certain blond head. Almost bummed when he did not see her, wondering where she was.

Their own little bet thrilled him, though it confused him at the same time, too.

Whoever got to the Ark first, would be allowed to dare the other something, or ask for a truth. When she'd proposed the idea so close to the place they'd played this game the last time, his stomach had made a backflip. And it did now, too, just thinking about it. Already knew what he wanted to ask her, wanted to hear the truth about.

And because of that, almost desperately wanted to win.

He'd called Buccaneer as soon as he knew where he'd have to get to, the man's huge presence at his back comforting. Had set up everything they needed for their travels quickly, already had a car and most of the gear they'd probably need close by. Had made haste, meeting Buccaneer on the platform at Central, filling him in on the train.

"That's the guys?"

Miles could hear his friend very well, Buccaneers voice the kind that carried far. Could hardly see the man he was searching for though, almost completely hidden behind stacks upon stacks of books. Only saw the arm of the second person, peeking out of the doorway, the tattoos described unmistakable.

"Guess so, looks and place are a fit."

"How are we gonna go about it?"

Buccaneers question a good one, because Miles could not fathom the men’s reactions.

"I'd say let me do the talking at first, we'll see how it goes from there."

Spared a look behind him, Buccaneer standing out like a sore thumb in the masses moving around them.

Was a man of a little more than two metres, heavy-set and muscle-laden. His complexion rather pale, though his face still carried the traces of a people made for harsh winters and cold winds. The beard he sported since leaving university xingese in style, the country where he applied his skills most often.

Looked almost comical, in khaki-shorts and a floral-print shirt.

Exchanging one last nod with the man, Miles moved forwards, past the books. Seized the man in front of him up for a moment, taking in harsh features, deep scars and a build that could compare to that of the man behind him.

The man was clad in a traditional tunic, sitting on a pillow with crossed legs, one hand holding open a book, while his other was scratching a cat sitting in his lap behind the ears. His skin was darker than his own, though the scars stood out, almost white.

He'd heard of the man with the x-shaped scar before, how he'd fought off a greedy adventurer at the place where the high-priests of old were buried. He'd not been able to identify his attacker, only with luck had survived the wound to his face at all, not brought upon him by a knife or gun, nor by fire, but something that had later been identified as alchemy.

This had been years ago, the culprit never found.

Though now it was Miles turn to be seized up, the scarred man looking up upon his discreet cough, mouth set into a thin line, speaking of unhappiness.

The question aimed at him in ishvalan, which led him to answer in kind. Buccaneer understood it anyways.

_"The man with the hair that looks like a pineapple! So, you want to know things I've sworn not to tell anybody?"_

The hostility hard to overhear, though what bugged him more was the pineapple-remark.

_"Greetings elder, my name is Javed Miles, Zosimi..."_

A handwave shutting his polite introduction up mid-sentence.

_"Yes, I know, Zosimos Miles trying to get me in trouble again. You are his grandson?"_

Bowed his head shortly, starting to speak again.

_"Yes, my name is Javed Miles and I..."_

_"I cannot believe that the old man is now sending his grandson to harass me! Not only that, but all kinds of other people too!"_

Miles breathed deeply upon this second interruption, though the cat in the man’s lap, a black and white one, stretched leisurely.

_"If you would..."_

_"I know what you want, and I'm tempted to not give it to you, but the decision is not mine to make! I..."_

He heard Buccaneer take a deep breath behind him, probably having reached the daily-limit of rudeness he could endure. The voice cutting into their one-sided dialogue though a lot softer, yet very firm.

_"Brother, it would be the right thing to finally let the man finish his introduction. Mother would chide you for your rudeness."_

In the doorway stood another ishvalan, clearly the other's brother, chin and mouth the same. He was a tad less tall, not as buff, wearing a black shirt with no sleeves. Wore a pair of glasses, pushing them up his nose with a lanky finger, smiling slightly. Miles took a deep breath, starting anew, hoping that the third time would be the charm.

_"My name is Javed Miles! Zosimos Miles send me, to find out the secret of the Ark our legends tell of. He let me know that you can lead me to the place I need to go next."_

The brother of the scarred man speaking first, kindly still.

"And I am Akeem Kaswara. We cherish that elder Zosimos send you to uphold and seek out this cornerstone of our shared religion. I bid you to forgive my brother for his harsh words, we've been seeked out because of that secret twice today already."

The first of them calling out, clearly not amused when thinking about the guests they already had.

_"She called me a goatfucker!"_

Buccaneer blowing his cover of pretending to not understand a word by laughing, though Akeem was quick to speak before he could say something.

_"Because you acted like one, brother!"_

The scarred man at that turning to them, though not before looking at his brother with narrowed eyes.

_"I am Suhail Kaswara, though the name I use is Scar. I cherish that your grandfather at least sends us one who knows about the life in these sands. It is a good change from a threatening man and a rude woman."_

_"You mean nosy brother."_

Their exchange quick, reminding him of another pair of siblings he'd once been allowed to witness.

_"May I remind you of the goatfucker-remark?"_

_"In my opinion still deserved. There was no matter to be so rude to the lady in the first place, especially as she treated the topic_ and _us with great respect!"_

_"What makes you so sure that she's not just here to steal and make a profit?!"_

The two seemingly having forgotten them for the moment, though he felt Buccaneer softly nudge his shoulder. The big man leaned down to his level, whispering in amestrian.

"Think they mean Armstrong? Calling someone goatfucker sounds like her, though the other one called the woman a lady..."

The big guy trailing off, though Miles whispered back quickly.

"Definitely sounds like her. What interests me more, is the third person they mentioned. Mustangs not travelled away from Central, did not even get an envelope! His wife had just gone into labour when we left the city!"

The brothers still at it when Buccaneer straightened, though Miles decided to simply cut into their fight.

_"This is all nice and well, but we all know why I am here. My question is: will you help me?"_

The other two getting quiet then, a kind of silent communication starting instead.

Nothing happened except for mouthed words and wiggling eyebrows for a while, the sound of the market coming back to his ears. People were shuffling past the stall, in the distance someone was loudly advertising the packs of underwear he sold. Children were laughing and running between people, the smell of sand and spices mingling with that of the old books around him.

He saw a tome on xingese history, another on art in Creta. Saw several on the ancient land of Xerxes and was tempted to buy one. Saw one on a shelf behind Scar, on Ishvalan art in their houses of prayer and had to think of Olivier and about how much she'd like that one. Tried not to think about the fact that she'd been quicker than him again, though she seemingly did not have the luck to get the information she wanted. Instead wondered if she was close by, if she maybe knew another train that got you to Ishval quicker than the supposed quickest one.

The brothers seemingly having come to an end with their silent discussion, because Buccaneer elbowed him subtly in the back, forcing his attention onto them. Scar speaking, while his brother stood, leaning against the doorway.

_"We have decided that you deserve to know, as our Ishvalan brother. I do not have to tell you how important the Ark is, what it entails and means to us as a people. As such, we both wish you the best of luck with this!"_

Was being handed a book, a tome really, huge and somewhat dusty. Warm from where the sun had shone onto it, the script on it in high-ishvalan, which was hard to translate at the best of times.

_"And with this I'll find out where I need to go?"_

Akeem speaking now, putting the palms of his hands together as you would in prayer.

_"Read the prayer of Ashad the great, it will lead you to what you desire."_

Miles bowed, deeply, speaking solemnly.

_"Thank you for your help and guidance my brothers. Would it be alright for me to ask some more questions?"_

Akeem nodding, while Scar was winding something free from the lounging cats collar.

_"Who came here before me?"_

The sitting one of the two frowning at that, which gave him an indefinitely brooding look.

_"A man, about the same size as you. He was an amestrian, with long and black hair. I'm somehow sure I've seen him before, but he tried to weasel the information we gave to you freely out of us."_

His question one he knew the answer to, but Ishvalan communication was that of a people riddled with rituals of politeness, leading to conversations often looping.

_"He did not garner any information from you?"_

Scar scoffed.

_"Of course not. Akeem send him away quickly, upon noticing the arrays on the man's hands."_

Buccaneer now speaking up, the big guys suspicions not unlike his own, even if he spoke Ishvalan with a strong accent.

_"I know a man with arrays tattooed into the palms of his hands. Solf Kimblee has such. There was an investigation opened against him, concerning theft of cultural goods a few days ago! Could you possibly describe the arrays?"_

Akeem nodding, grabbing pen and paper, starting to draw swiftly and with precise strikes. Miles turning towards his friend, the information new to him.

"They're making a case against him?"

Buccaneer nodding.

"Got the news just before I caught the train to meet up with you. Drachma wants to make a case and Amestris is willing to deliver him. When he's here, he'll probably go east after he gets what he's searching for."

Soaked up this information, mulling it over in his head. Olivier had voiced her suspicions aloud at his grandfather’s birthday, though that the man seemed to have gotten caught in drachma instead, or they at least strongly suspected that he was the culprit of a theft, spoke volumes.

Akeem all the while having finished his drawing, handing the slip of paper to Buccaneer.

_"These arrays are basically good for explosions. Don't know what a treasure-hunter would want with those. But anyways, I hope this helps you."_

Buccaneer looking at the drawings, nodding, muttering "that's him alright" under his breath. Miles all the while wanted to confirm another lingering suspicion.

_"And the other person that asked you about the Ark? A woman you said?"_

Scar speaking up at that, face turning from mildly interested to sour again.

_"Strolled up here, bought a book after a bit of browsing and then started to just ask us indignant questions!"_

The other of the two laughing slightly at that, the whole encounter seemingly having been hilarious to him.

_"Well, that's a way to put it. Though I'd say she asked politely instead of indignantly. And don't forget brother, that Zosimos sent her!"_

The other grumbling, while the cat now got on its hind-legs, pawing at the man’s chest for attention.

_"Anybody can say that they were sent by Zosimos. He knows the whole world after all! And don't forget that..."_

Akeem cutting into his sentence.

_"Yeah, yeah, she called you a goatfucker. That's what you get for calling someone an amestrian… culture-thief!"_

Laughing all the while, though Buccaneer seemingly wanted to make sure.

_"Could you describe the woman?"_

The black and white cat getting patted again, looking proud of itself, Scar speaking up.

_"Petite, fit, I'd say. Skin so pale that there already was quite a sunburn, her hair long and blond. Blue eyes."_

His brother butting in, grumbling less and smiling more.

_"She bought a book on fauna in Ishval, extinct and still roaming. Paid more than I asked her to. Asked about you actually and left you a note."_

Miles not able to fight the slight burning in his cheeks, amplified by Buccaneer elbowing him in the back.

Was handed a note by Scar, cat-hairs still sticking to it, folding it open and feeling Buccaneers breath on his shoulder. The big guy was always too curious for his own good. He read aloud.

"One would think you are quicker. Meet me at the Purple Plums and I'll maybe let you off the hook. Love Mira."

The one having handed him the note grumbling.

_"Threatening words for a woman my cat liked."_

His brother chiming in without a hitch.

_"Threatening words for a woman I think likes you."_

"Threatening words from a woman that definitely likes you!"

Buccaneer having him blush furiously now, the other two looking interested. He thought it best to change subject quickly, pointing at that book about Ishvalan art behind Scar.

_"Can you put that one to the side for me? I'll pick it up later."_

Bowed when Akeem nodded, seemingly puzzled at the quick change of subject. Bowed still, putting the palms of his hands together.

_"Thank you for your help, I appreciate your trust."_

Heard Buccaneer behind him shuffle, probably bowing too, while the two men in front of him mirrored his gesture.

_"Have a save trip, Javed Miles, Grandson of Zosimos Miles. May you find our past and are never afraid of the future. May Ishvala bless you on your journey."_

Departed quickly then, not giving Buccaneer at his back time to gripe about the words Olivier had written him. Instead went into the direction of the Purple Plums, not sure what to expect, but knowing that he couldn't not at least walk past the place. Knew that it would be a lie to say that what she had to say was of no interest to him.

Sure though, that he'd find the Ark first. He wanted the truth from her after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mandatory rest-stop. Drink and eat something, go pee, I know you've been holding it in.  
> NorthernWall, study!  
> ;)


	4. What's the tea?

They probably thought they were subtle.

Instead she'd spotted the two men a while ago, seeming to be squabbling with one another. Should've known that Miles would call on Buccaneer, their mutual friend from their time at University. She'd stayed in contact with him, they met regularly, something she'd never managed with Miles.

Hadn't dared to, after her misstep in the room for xerxian history so many years ago.

By mere chance she'd been able to call on him, when her search for fossils in the forests of Aerugo had unearthed not just that, but a whole civilization. Had been offered a list that day, anthropologists to choose from, Miles always her first choice in such matters. Knew few that did their job with such passion and attention to detail. Had hugged him that day, not knowing how much she'd really missed him until he stood in front of her again.

He'd stiffened back then, like he stiffened now upon seeing her.

Watched as Miles was elbowed in the back by Buccaneer, who would seemingly wait until they were finished. Which was fine by her, as this was between them, a proposition for her to make that the big guy would probably scoff at anyways. "Miles is dense, you need to tell him clearly!" was all Bucky had ever said on the matter of _them_. Which was enough for her, the thought always on her mind that he had made it clear what he thought.

Watched him near her now, winding through wooden chairs and full tables, in that thrice-damned blue shirt that offered her a glimpse of silvery chest-hair.

"You awaiting someone?"

Would've sighed at his charming smile, if she did not deem it unseemly. Was keen on punching him too, just because he very well knew that she had been waiting for him. Instead of doing any of this though, she inclined her head, the broad-brimmed hat moving with her, speaking evenly.

"You! Now sit down Mr. Slow."

Which he did, looking at her with these equally thrice-damned red eyes, his white lashes catching her gaze time and time again. She'd not noticed them right away, but one day while studying together with him it had hit her. Upon her blush he'd asked what the matter was. She'd told him very harshly to concentrate on the books.

Wondered, when he spoke with his soothing and even voice, why she tortured herself like this time and time again.

"Okay Olivier, you're faster than me. Almost every time I'll add, because it's the truth. But what do you want?"

Smirked, only one corner of her mouth pulled upwards, while her fingers were scratching over her arms.

"You know what I want Miles, just as well as _I_ know that you have it!"

Felt his gaze on her body, the white blouse she wore, sleeves rolled up to her elbows. Saw that he inspected her white hat, wider then she usually liked. Felt that he saw the reason for that, watched her fingers scratch at the already developed sunburn.

The goosebumps came unbidden.

"I only know that you need something against that sunburn. Really, you've been in Ishval so often, one would think that you finally started to protect your skin."

His eyes boring into hers, her fight rearing its head.

She needed information from him, noticed that he tried to be evasive on the chosen topic. Wanted to find this Ark, not just for fame, certainly not for the money she wouldn't get, but because of their bet. She wanted a truth from him, a question that was on her mind for so many years now to be finally answered.

"And others would think that you finally learned that I don't like dancing around things! I've got a trade for you, if you're interested."

Sharpened her tone at which he straightened his back. Let his own tone of voice become more factual.

"What kind of deal?"

"You tell me where we need to go to get further, I'll drop our bet. Fair competition from here."

Did not know why he furrowed his brows, his expression gloomier than before. Felt anger, though the rough choice of words still took her by surprise.

"Adding Kimblee to the mix is fair then? That neither him, nor you, could weasel out the information needed?"

She felt and showed that she was offended, leaning forwards.

"You think I'd work with Kimblee?! Are you out of your mind now Miles?"

Saw him cross his arms in a defensive pose.

"You talk of him, we get this chance and suddenly he shows up here? You think I'm dense? I sure as hell did not ask him to come along, so you're the only source he could’ve gotten this from!"

Was close to chugging her tea at him, if it weren't such a damn perfect blend. His accusations outrageous to her, having her wonder why he suddenly was like that.

"Miles, you fucking know I hate that man! I confided my suspicions in you, that I think him to be a thieving asshole! You really think I'd work with someone like this?!"

The man in front of her deflating slightly, taking a deep breath, looking to the side and then back to her.

"Then tell me why he's here! Talking with the people only _us_ knew to talk to!"

She let out the frustrated sigh she'd been holding in since seeing him, stretching out her skirt-clad legs. Her tone still snide, though she warmed it up a bit.

“Only if you tell me why King Bradley is walking the alleyways around here! I’ve seen him around a few times now and I’m pretty sure he’s seen me too!”

Watched, not with satisfaction but still pleased by the mere sight, how Miles face reddened. It seemed to be a mixture of shame and anger, judging by the tone of his voice.

“How do I know that you’re not just making that up?!”

A snort escaping her, sudden even for herself, the situation just too absurd.

“Are we really accusing the other to be snitching now?”

His face devoid of any expression for a moment, before the corners of his mouth lifted slightly, still a pleasant red tinge to his cheeks.

“I… yes, yes you’re right. I’m sorry for being ridiculous, just, how?!”

She took a sip of her tea.

“Could’ve eavesdropped on us, or whatever he does to gather information. I guess the type like Kimblee has people willing to sell them information sitting at every corner.”

Miles nodding, his voice now even again, pleasant.

“So, if he got a hold of the information that we’re travelling…”

“We should stay on the lookout, yes. Though, I guess Bucky is keeping an eye on us?”

Expected Miles sheepish grin and revelled in it.

“Never a bad thing to have a two-metres-tall linguist at your back. Also, I’m an easy catch when alone.”

Could not keep the disbelieving look off her face, nor did she want to.

“You feel the need for a babysitter, really? Or do you fear that the Ishvalan single ladies will carry you away if you aren't careful?”

Loving the way he was suddenly all kinds of flustered, a smile pulling on her lips, his moment of distrust almost instantly forgotten by her.

“It's not that! They're just... nosy! And I've got things to focus on, need to beat you to that Ark!”

Her laugh easy, though an act. The question following from her honest, though she was careful to sound like she was joking.

“So, you got a nice girl in East City? Miles the heartbreaker, huh?”

His voice loud at first when he answered, though he quickly got quieter when people started to look.

“NO! I mean no! There's no girl in East City! Not anywhere! I...”

Her laughter, in parts relief, cutting him off.

“Geez Miles, I was joking! Calm down and let's get to business, shall we?”

The former not true, while the latter was. Miles composing himself incredibly fast, though the slight tint of a blush did not leave his cheeks entirely. She had to wonder if such questions embarrassed him really that much, or only when coming from her, unearthing old embarrassments.

“Okay, back to business then. You proposed that we drop our bet when I give you the information you need?”

Nodded, hoping he’d fall for her ploy.

“You can follow a conversation, I'm impressed.”

His answer quick, though there was now a smirk tugging on the corner of his mouth.

“Really Liv, that was a low blow!”

She raised her hands, a smile coming unbidden.

“Yeah, I was talking before I thought it through. Get on with what you wanted to say.”

He coughed a little.

“I want to propose to you another deal: I give you the information you need, and we don't drop our bet!”

Knew that her mouth was hanging open and that her eyes had went wide, though did not care about that when she spoke to him in a disbelieving voice.

“Excuse me Miles, but what? Why?”

He was still calm, though there was something in his eyes she could not place.

“Because! We'll have an equal start from here, no bias based on nationality or heritage. The same chances to win the price we agreed on!”

An uncertain kind of laughter escaping her, stemming from the sheer shock of him giving up his clear advantage.

“Is the bet really that important to you?”

His answer quick, one of his eyebrows raised.

“Is forgetting the bet really that important to you?!”

Silence stretched over the small table for a while, a waitress bringing Miles his equally as silently ordered cup of tea. He took a sip, making a pleased face.

“Great blend, don't know how you do it.”

His smile dislodging the heart that had settled in her throat.

“What?”

“Wherever we are, no matter if city or village, you always find the best tea-house in the vicinity.”

Her own voice solemn, factual, when she spoke.

“Miles, you are really ready to give up this edge you have?”

“And you Liv, should finally learn that I don't like dancing around things. I know what I said, and I'll hold my promise. Tomorrow morning we'll start off with the same knowledge.”

Did not know how to feel about that, what to think about that, and instead did the one thing that seemed logical to her.

She nodded okay.

“Deal Miles, you give up your edge, and the bet still stands.”

Within minutes Buccaneer was sitting at their table too, a heavy tome lying on it, neither Miles nor her able to read anything inside of it fully. They both could make out a few sentences here and there, but nothing major, fluent in modern ishvalan, not the ancient kind.

Buccaneer grinned, translating almost effortlessly.

And when a few hours later they were done, her with a handwritten translation in her purse and Miles and Buccaneer walking off in the other direction, all of them having agreed on not driving off before sunrise, she asked for the bill. Being told by a smiling waiter, that the nice Ishvalan man had already paid for them, winking at her.

Looked after that god-damned gentleman with his god-damned perfect behind.


	5. Inter-rudes

“You think we'll need glow-sticks?”

Buccaneers voice full of laughter.

“ _Of course_ , we'll need glow-sticks! When does one not need glow-sticks?! Ever kissed a girl beneath a glow-stick? It's marvellous!”

Saw the white mob of hair from his friend appear behind a shelve in the “survival store”, which Miles had called a normal store for any Ishvalan that wanted to survive the desert for more than ten minutes. In his hands was a rope, at least ten metres long.

“And you’ll need that rope too, so get it!”

The sound of them rummaging filling the air, the store-clerk having let them in after opening-hours, saying something about Miles looking a lot like a guy named Zosimos, who still had a tab open here.

Knew that Miles, the younger one, loved to use opportunities such as these to talk about the heavy stuff.

“You think I did the right thing telling Olivier about what we found out?”

Scoffed, only leaning back for a moment so that his friend could see his dramatically raised eyebrows.

“You made our life a lot harder with telling Armstrong, that’s for sure. You know there’s a reason why she’s the most-successful treasure-hunter with a degree not history or anthropology, right? You sat next to me at that one sabre-duel, or did you hit your head and forgot that?!”

Miles sighing, probably thinking about her instead of the task at hand.

“I just thought it was fair, you know Bucc? Scar and Akeem would’ve never given her the book, she wouldn’t have had a chance. If Mustang’s been in the competition, he’d have probably weaselled it out of them. It wouldn’t have been fair!”

He sometimes wondered if Miles really had hit his head, though refrained from saying it outright. Instead, he spoke like he was explaining something to a child.

“You’re aware that she’d just have stolen the book, right?”

Miles sounded exasperated, which made him laugh.

“It’s about finding an important historical artefact! She’d only steal when there’s a danger of it falling into the wrong hands!”

Could hardly contain himself, when Miles face turned a bit sour at his answer.

“At the moment you are the wrong hands, you’re aware of that, right?”

Buccaneer inwardly cursed himself. He usually knew better than to bring up Armstrong or hold a conversation about her upright, when around Miles. Had always been a sore subject.

His friend burying himself in the gear again, holding the angry silence for all of five minutes. His voice not meek when he spoke up again, nor angry, but with a small edge to it.

“How many glow-sticks do you think we’ll need?”

“How many are there?”

Miles shrugged, looking at him.

“Twenty?”

Buccaneer scoffed.

“We need to ask the man if he has more in the back!”

That managed to make Miles laugh again.

* * *

He'd gotten hold of an old motorbike, not caring if it was comfortable in the slightest.

Had parked it behind the little hostel he was staying in, the owners not asking questions anyways. Was proud of himself, as he'd kept a low profile, without having to trade in any of his style for that. Had packed a small bag, though had observed the two men some more after they'd met Armstrong at that tea-house. They were getting supplies, which meant that he wouldn't have to.

And when he'd seen that right, they'd shared what they knew with her.

Which was utterly stupid of course, Armstrong someone competing with was hard at the best of times. The woman was quick, had snatched things that he'd wanted to get his hands on, often weeks before he'd even thought about moving out.

But he should have expected it, not knowing the Miles-guy too well, but aware that there was at least _something_ between them.

Instead of fretting though, Solf Kimblee had thought to himself the more the better.

It would mean two possible cars to follow to the objective, a second chance at getting the exact location of the Ark. With anything it was possibly protected with he'd put up when the time came. His alchemy was more than just explosions after all, even when these were the best part of it.

His thumbs absent-mindedly following the curve of his tattoos, reawakening the pricking of the needles in his palms, however many years ago that happened. Revelled in the feeling of rough power coursing through him, too.

He could change the shape of the earth if he wanted to, could irritate the smallest particles until they snapped and exploded. And he'd put his vast powers to good use come morning, would get his hand on the Ark of Ishvalan legends.

And the money he'd get for that, would let him travel. Far away, wherever his mind would want to go. He'd give Bradley half of it, maybe less, maybe he'd even wipe him from this earth. Forgotten temples were a good place for that after all.

Rubbed his hands in anticipation, watching the sun going down over rock-formations in the distance, quiet popping-noises filling the air.

* * *

She towelled her hair for a while, looking at the photograph leaning against the bedside-lamp.

It was Miles and her, sitting next to each other in one of North Cities bars. They must've been in their sixth semester, judging by how short her hair was. His was open, longer than it was now, hanging wavily past his shoulders, giving him a somewhat wild look. She'd pulled the glasses from his face that afternoon and he'd let her do it willingly once they were safely inside. Still felt her hands tingle where they had brushed against his sideburns.

Made a face when finger-combing through her still wet hair, her old hairdo seeming off to her now.

In a fit she'd cut her hair off back then, fed-up with the lengths and the comments that came with it. Sported a springy set of curls for half a year, until it had grown out enough to make a ponytail with. The small curls had been more annoying than the lengths had ever been, the comments on her capabilities not having been stopped by the scissor either.

And so instead she'd straightened her back after a talk with her mother on the phone, had shown those crusty assholes what she was capable off.

A major in palaeontology while also trying for a minor in anthropology and art? She'd pulled it off with time to spare, had taken several language-classes too. That's where she'd gotten to know Buccaneer, who'd went with drachman speech to get an easy degree and bolster up his resume. He in turn had introduced her to Miles, when an assignment had led her to needing knowledge about ishvalan customs.

And since that day in the small and half-empty room, Miles had been a constant for her.

He was smart, had talked with her seriously about any topic, not once questioning her ability. They'd studied together, he'd never been shy to ask for help and so she hadn't been either.

The room for ishvalan history had soon been her home away from the dorm, her roommate often joking that she only ever got back there to sleep. Something she'd often enough done in the library too, head on the desk and just revelling in the quiet atmosphere.

The safe feeling Miles and Buccaneer gave her.

And then she'd done something stupid before their graduation-ceremony, had been so damn sure that Miles felt the same, so much so that his unmoving lips had taken her by complete surprise. Had fled the room for xerxian history and had hidden until the ceremony.

Their contact shaky after that, even now their interactions feeling stilted somehow. Miles certainly holding something back, something she was sure she wouldn’t like at all. But he drew her still, had given her what she would need tomorrow.

And tore her eyes away from the picture at that, trying to look ahead instead.

She'd mucked up the past with him, and she'd have to live with that. But for her future finding the Ark would be incredible and important, not to mention that she loved adventures, as simple as that.

And she wanted to win just for that one question on her mind too. Just so she could be sure that he would be telling the truth when she finally asked what had been on her mind for so long.

Maybe then her heart would finally calm down when she was near him.

Or when she thought of him.

* * *

“And what did you say to her before that?”

The smile in the old man's voice easy to hear, even though a thousand miles of phone-cables.

“I maybe said something about amestrian-blue eyes and that the colour here is only worn by whores...”

Zosimos laughter ringing in his ear loudly, the words easy enough to interpret, even though hard to understand.

“Deserve to be called a goat-fucker in my books for that! You know that I taught her the phrase?”

Of course, he didn't. He'd once seen an amestrian University from afar, but priest-school had always been enough for him. Knew that Zosimos Miles had been a Professor at University, still was when the mood struck him.

“Sounds like you, to teach your students swear words!”

The man's humour at the whole situation almost too much, especially considering the severity of the situation.

“It is not my fault that they learn the language faster that way! And what is that even, to call her a whore?! You know that I send her, right?”

Scoffed into the receiver, his brother opposite of him rolling his eyes at that, grinning.

“And the man that came before her, the black-haired one we first talked about, was not send by you! How could I have been sure?!”

The man deadpanning at him.

“I send you a picture boy. Don't try to act like I'm a fool! But now tell me, her and Miles...”

Scoffed again, just because he could.

“She forced me to give him a note!”

The old man getting nosy in his opinion.

“And?!”

“It was rude!”

“And?!”

“He liked it!”

Zosimos cheering so loud, that he held the receiver away from his ear, just to get the point across to his brother.

Was mad still, that he had to be the one to have this conversation.

The old man still overly excited.

“And what do you think of my grandson?”

At least tried to sound a little less hostile, a feat achieved easier when snowballs jumped onto his lap.

“Polite. The ladies from the other stalls came over and asked about him. Seems to be taking everything seriously.”

And it always came kind of suddenly when Zosimos Miles turned serious, even if he was used to that by now.

“You think I made the right choice?”

Cleared his throat, though kept the hostility out of his voice.

“That will be decided by the Ark.”


	6. He bombed our plan. Literally!

“Are we driving in the right direction?”

Miles checked the compass, nodding and speaking a bit louder, to battle the roaring of the engine and the wind whipping in through the open windows.

“We're on course. An hour or two, and we should be at the entrance, if the terrain stays like that!”

Buccaneer driving, seemingly not keen on screaming some more, closing the windows. Miles mirroring him on his side of the car.

“You sure we packed everything?”

Laughed when Miles gasped and even more when he was hit on the shoulder for that.

“Hey, be careful, you know,” gestured with one hand, “I'm driving!”

“There is nothing but sand!”

Grinned to himself, though not taking his eyes from the, granted, sandy expanse in front of them.

“And that's why I need to be careful. It's fucking monotone, but that means you don't notice dips or dunes until it’s too late. Not to mention when we get stuck! You want to dig around when the sun is at its highest point?!”

Miles voice easy, humorous. They'd both started in high spirits after all, if a little nervous. But the good kind of nervous, the kind that always came with a hunt.

“You're right, sorry.”

Buccaneer hearing the added “not-sorry” in his mind, grinning too.

Their small argument from the night before had been settled an hour later, when they'd sat themselves down in the streets and ate a mix of food from the many street-vendors. He'd made it clear, for the hundredth time, that Armstrong had a thing for him. Which Miles denied.

Had groaned loudly over his food, because Armstrong always did the same thing when he told her that Miles was head over heels for her.

He still wondered about what went down before they'd all graduated, almost a decade ago by now. And if the poor kids that had sat and studied in the room for xerxian history ever put behind them whatever they'd seen this day. Not that Miles would tell, what exactly had had happened.

Wondered still, if either Miles or Armstrong even knew that they'd scarred two teens. Two very tight-lipped teens.

“Any news on Armstrong?”

Miles grunted.

“I've not seen her this morning when getting breakfast. Walked past the bakery she likes so much...”

“The one with the cinnamon buns?!”

Miles glare easily felt.

“As I was saying, I walked past he bakery she likes so much, and they said that she'd not yet come through. So, she's either driven off without buying from them...”

“Unlikely!”

He quipped again, Miles only letting out a breath this time.

“...or she hadn't driven off at all. Though I wouldn’t put it past her to take the southern route to the coordinates, she never feared a bumpy ride.”

Thought about their coordinates again, how the other two had sighed and fought with the ancient text, while he'd been able to translate it fairly easily. Had told them that drinking a cool milkshake, like he did, would help them think, but they'd stuck to their tea like there wouldn't be any more tomorrow. They’d in turn told him that even a milkshake did not help you with learning ancient ishvalan in five minutes.

It had been an Ishvalan prayer, one of the more important ones, though had clearly changed over the course of hundreds of years.

The ancient text, the handwritten notes in the same language next to it, had started to make sense soon though. Had sent them towards the _“mountains bathed in the light of the dawning sun”_ , to find where the _“blue mixed with the rays of Ishvala”_ to form the _“green bloom of life”._

Even he knew about the oasis at the foot of mount Kanda.

“The southern route would've been quicker?”

Revved the engine more, going a gear lower, the sand beneath him more slippery on this stretch of desert.

“Yes, but also more dangerous. There're stones beneath the sands there, with sharp edges. One wrong move and you slash your tire. Or all four of them.”

Miles answer giving him the confidence to feel good about their chosen route.

They'd round the stony fields, drive over softer and less treacherous sands. He'd of course have to be careful, you never knew what was beneath the golden expanse after all, but had plenty of experience with that.

His work sends him to Xing often, the trip through the great desert by now almost familiar to him.

“And what do _you_ think this Ark is?”

The uncertainty in Miles voice hard to overhear, as was his excitement.

“Honestly, I'm not too sure. I like to think of it as a tome, maybe with the rules the first high-priest wrote down as they were whispered into his ear by Ishvala. Though other sources I read about it in, claim that it's got something to do with Ishval before it became a desert.”

He lowered the sun visor so he wouldn’t have to squint against the light any longer.

“So, it’s the usual great mystery?”

Miles laughing, taking it not as disrespect.

“You could say that! As kids my grandfather told my siblings and me that the Ark is the past and the future, what was and what is to come at the same time. That history repeats itself, in every aspect.”

He nodded.

“Isn’t there this theory, that the Ishvalan belief predicates that time is circular?”

“So, you _did_ listen!”

Buccaneer spared a short look to the man next to him, who looked at him almost slack-jawed, bespectacled gaze fixed on him.

He grumbled his answer.

“I always do! I just don’t remember constantly! And it’s a fascinating concept by the way, that the world will one day start again, though I personally like to think that not everything would be totally the same.”

When Miles stopped laughing, he finally talked back.

“How do you mean that?”

He was quiet for a moment.

“I mean, when everything starts again, is it set to go the exact same way? Or can things be different?”

Which in turn had Miles think, the car as silent as it could be, with a roaring engine and the singing of the sand underneath their wheels. Used the time his friend needed to think, to get out more of his ideas.

“If everything would just be on repeat, wouldn’t that be against Ishvalas teachings? That there’s always a second chance?”

“You’re onto something there Bucc. Though honestly? Should talk about that kind of stuff with the priests!”

Another bout of laughter shared, the mountains closing in.

It was then when they bumped over something, apparently drove over a stone or some such, the rumbling audible.

“Miles, think we should take a look?”

The other sighed.

“Guess so. Better safe than sorry, we only have one spare-tire after all.”

And as such, he stopped their jeep after descending the next dune, coming to halt in the small and sandy valley created by the waves of sand. Both of them got out of the car, checked the tires and when they were sure that these were okay, Miles got onto his back and slipped beneath the car.

“Anything out of the ordinary?”

Buccaneer standing upright, one hand on the roof, leaning against it a little. Miles voice muffled.

“I see nothing wrong. Nothing’s dripping out either, though we should open the hood too, and check the cooling liquid for the engine while we’re at it. Good thing we’re almost at the mountains, it must be what, half a mile now?”

Stretched, the sand singing again when it slid down the dunes, mourning that the wind that must’ve set it sliding did not reach them down here.

“Seems about right. I’m still wondering though, what made that noise. I mean, we secured…”

Turned while speaking, looking around, the pain already exploding in his chest when he spotted the person standing on the dune.

Put his hand to his chest, heard Miles scramble out from underneath their jeep, asking him what was wrong.

And he felt himself fall to his knees, liquid pouring forth between his fingers, pain blooming and breath escaping him. Miles warm hands on his underarms, helping him sink to his back, a hand pressing to the wound his chest seemed to spout out of nowhere.

Heard the snarl of a voice, the song of the dunes when someone slid them down.

“It’s a rock-salt bullet Dr. Miles, so save yourself the angsty face.”

A smile so easy to hear, that he could identify Solf Kimblee just by the sound of it.

* * *

Blood was still pouring from Buccaneers wound, so much so, that he did not dare to take his hands away.

Kimblee circling them, a smirk plastered to his face, hands putting away a handgun, then idly rearranging the cuffs of his white shirt.

“If Mr. Buccaneer knew how to use a rear-view mirror, you’d have seem me ages ago. It was so easy to follow you!”

Buccaneer groaning in pain, though he still breathed steadily, was cursing under his breath.

“What the fuck do you want Kimblee?! Are you out of your mind?”

The other seeming surprised.

“Why would I be? The Ark, whatever it may be, will be valuable to someone! And I like valuable things! They buy you freedom to do whatever you want!”

Laughed at his own words, looking into the back of their jeep. Whistled at his findings.

“Fully loaded I see, huh? Well prepared? Thank you!”

Miles instead screaming, not caring about acting calm, or getting the upper hand. Not with the blood running beneath his fingertips.

“Kimblee, not even you would take a life for some treasure, would you? Listen, I’ll give you the coordinates, the gear, but give us a way to get Buccaneer to a hospital! With the heat and the…”

The man silencing him with a wave of his hand, letting him catch a glimpse of a crescent moon.

“Yes, yes, talk some more, like that would help you. You think someone will know that you’re here? That someone will care? And even if: It’d take them a long, good while to find you!”

Rummaged around their car a bit more, while Miles pulled at the keffiyeh wound around his neck, pressing it to Buccaneers chest with all the strength he could muster. His friend trying to speak, which lead him to lean down, Kimblee all the while billowing things he did not bother to properly hear in that moment.

“Miles, you’ve got to stop him, you need to get to the Ark before him!”

The sneer from the car cold, making fun of them.

“And the map right on the dashboard? You’re asking for it, aren’t you?”

“Miles, I’ll get through this, you need to go…”

Buccaneer coughing, expression pained. He spoke, hastily and not caring if Kimblee heard.

“I’ll not leave you here Bucc! Even if you make it until I get help, what about infection? And the sun? Armstrong’s still out, she’ll beat this asshole a thousand times over!”

Did not look at them man when he revved the engine to live, though his words were hard to ignore.

“How touching! But you know, my partner slashed Armstrong’s tires, so I doubt she even left the city at this point.”

Sand bathing them when the black-haired man started their jeep and put in a gear, which led Miles to lean over Buccaneer, trying to shield him from the sand. The big man of course berating him for his choice, though Miles was only busy with being relieved that the blood flowing from the wound seemed to slowly but surely become less.

“You idiot, you should’ve fought him, you…”

The sound of an explosion halting any conversation they might’ve had, the sound of rock sliding upon rock. It was deafening, the earth beneath them shook and more sand slid their way.

Miles reacted instantly, pulled on Buccaneer, who got on his knees with lots of groaning and swearing. Got him to his feet even, the man still loud, angry, but pressing the keffiyeh to the wound himself now.

And with what must’ve been the greatest show of strength Miles had ever seen, Buccaneer climbed up the dune with his help.

Collapsed on top of it again, letting the man fall into the sand, breathing hard and cussing some more. Crouched closer to him in that moment, pulling away the scarf, with deft fingers pulling apart the muscle shirt Buccaneer wore underneath his open and ugly floral-print short-sleeve shirt.

“Wha..?”

Grumbled at his friend’s protest.

“I need to take a look! You’re to nimble for the bullet to have hit anything vital, but you could still be in mortal danger! Not to mention what could happen when you get dirt into the wound!”

Which quietened Buccaneers protests, who looked the other way and let him do a thorough inspection.

Miles searching his belt-pouches for the roll of bandages he carried in it and the antiseptic.

The man beneath him piquing up at that, sceptical.

“Kimblee said it’s rock-salt Miles, we need to get it out first!”

Was at a loss for what to do if he was honest and seemingly looked the part.

He’d never done his military service, had opted to perform community service instead. As such, he knew only basic medical aid, like what to do with broken bones or deep scratches. Bullets were fairly uncommon in this “profession” after all, as long as one kept away from the camps of smugglers.

“But I heard you can leave it in until you get to a professional, as long as it did not hit anything vital…”

The big man seriously having the gal to laugh.

“Normal bullets, maybe, though I’d rather leave everything to a medic. Rock-salts nasty though, hurts at first only, but can be awful when left in a wound too long. The salt basically dissolves and…”

Miles shuddered.

“How am I to get you to a doc?”

Which he got no answer to, because Buccaneer had gripped his hand, drew his gaze towards the mountains the sun had risen behind an hour ago.

He’d been too busy with Buccaneer to heed the shaking off the earth, the crushing noises, any mind. He’d been busy with running up a collapsing dune after all. But now he looked towards the Kanda mountains, not too far away. Something was missing from the side they could see, stone had descended as rubble, and spilled huge boulders onto the sand. Passages through the formations he knew to have existed since wandering through them with his grandpa as a kid, were probably out of reach now.

Buccaneer speaking, putting his thoughts into words.

“Kimblee is the biggest asshole on this fucking planet!”

Could only nod at these wise words, put antiseptic on Buccaneers wound and at least tried to shield it with the bandage he had.

“What are we gonna do?”

The big guy’s question answered, by the sound of an engine nearing them.

“Maybe people from the city?”

Miles got up, though he knew that his assumption was unlikely. They were pretty far out, even if anybody had driven into this direction upon noticing the rockslide, it would take them at least an hour to get here.

Put his arms up anyways and waved at the jeep.

Which got closer to him, came to a stop, Olivier Mira Armstrong of all people hopping out of it.

“Hell, what happened to you?”

Buccaneer less dumbfounded, or maybe a better thinker when laying in the sand, answering while Miles still tried to wrap his mind around her appearance.

“Fucking Kimblee happened! Shot me, took our car, exploded a mountain! Go and get to the Ark before him!”

The blonde raising a brow, tone still inquiring.

“Have you been shot?”

Buccaneer groaned in frustration.

Miles finally found his voice though, filled her in. Told her of when they drove off, about Kimblee attacking them and taking their jeep and supplies. How bad Buccaneers injuries were and that their attacker had told them that she’d been hindered by his accomplice.

When his tale ended, she scoffed.

“Yes, I woke up to Bradley slashing my tires! Probably thinks that I do not know how to change them! Though I have no spares anymore, had to change my plans, too!”

Rolled her eyes for good measure, which sent Buccaneer into a laughing-fit, which swiftly changed to coughing and wheezing.

“And we need to get him to a Doctor quickly!”

Opened the back of her jeep, rearranged some stuff so they’d have a place to put him and then tried to help him up. Buccaneer protested.

“You’re losing valuable time! Kimblee will be at the place soon and you know that should he get his grubby hands on the things there first, they’ll never be seen again!”

The man’s protests drowned out by his _and_ Olivier’s’ glare.

“We will not leave you behind!”

“We’ll find an artefact but lose you? Let Kimblee have it!”

The big guy shutting up at that.

Let himself be loaded into the back of Armstrong’s jeep, Miles staying by his side, while she drove. Buccaneer not complaining further, was quiet rather, except for commenting on Olivier’s style of driving.

His own teeth shattering when she managed to find a pothole in the sand, though it was Buccaneer that finally broke the silence, swearing loudly.

“Fuck Armstrong! If you insist on saving my live, the at least don’t try to hit _every_ bump in the ground!”

Which was as close to a thank you as Buccaneer got.


	7. I swear this thing was trying to impale me!

“This must be it!”

He could not help the anxiousness that overcame him when they reached the outskirts of the Kanda Mountains oasis.

They’d dropped off Buccaneer at a Doctor, had waited until the kind woman had said that he’d without a doubt make it and then only left after the big guy urged them to for the third time. Had refuelled the jeep, hopped in and drove off.

“Is it just me, or did the oasis claim more of the desert?”

Turned to the blonde, his gaze a bit unfocused after the bumpy ride she’d given them. Had together decided on the shorter route now, taking that risk, the safe one cut off by Kimblee’s handmade rockslide anyway.

He’d forgotten what that would mean, her style of driving mixed with the uneven terrain, his stomach not just upset because of his nervousness.

Was able to nod though, after observing the lush green for a moment.

“It seems like it. I was last here two years ago and I remember it to not have reached this far.”

Which was curious, an oasis usually only able to grow when more water was supplied. And the whole region was claiming that there was less overall, the wells having to be dug deeper.

“There are their cars!”

Two jeeps parked at the edge of the green, deserted, nobody in sight. They parked theirs a small distance away, though made sure that some plant-growth hid it at least a little from sight. Got out and grabbed the stuff they’d need.

They had talked only little during the ride, both too tense.

Buccaneer was already injured and out, they’d be up against Solf Kimblee, who’d bombed a big part of a mountain just to get what they wanted to get, too. The Dean of Central City was on the search too, seemed to be allied with Kimblee, had actively worked on hindering Olivier on her hunt. The one thing they’d both talked about, that they now could be almost sure _how_ the many things from Central Cities Artefact-storage have vanished.

Were quiet now too, when Armstrong strapped a belt of pouches around her waist, tightened the laces on her combat-boots and redid her ponytail. Took the jacket she wore, light but long-sleeved, and threw it into the jeep carelessly, revealing a tank-top. Rummaged through the back of the car a bit more, producing a shoulder-holster and a gun, while he took the rope she’d packed, slinging it over his shoulder.

The chamber clicked open and she calmly loaded the weapon.

“I hope we won’t need that.”

Also tightened up his boot-laces, refilled the pouches on his belt. He’d not brought a gun, only had a small-knife at his belt and felt almost naked without such a weapon, hoping he’d not need it, or not.

Armstrong’s voice sharp, as was the sabre she pulled from the jeep now.

“Kimblee’s ruthless. And Bradley… always struck me as a mellow guy, but I guess I was wrong with that assumption.”

Slung the strap of the sabre over her shoulder with practised ease, making sure that it was in the right position to be drawn quickly.

“I’ve refilled my pouches and got what I need for a first foray. Should we look if they left their jeeps open?”

Which Kimblee and Bradley hadn’t, though Olivier showed little qualms and with the butt of her gun smashed in a window on each.

Miles loaded up on further supplies at Buccaneer’s and his vehicle, while she searched through Bradleys. Made a triumphant sound, while he filled a pouch with glow-sticks, putting one on a string around his neck.

“Look what that idiot left in his car!”

Held a shoulder-holster above her head, a gun inside. Went over without hesitation, slipping his arms through and adjusting the straps so it fit him.

“You’re more broad-shouldered then the guy, this thing’s almost too small for you. Though, you know how to shoot, right?”

He nodded.

“My grandfather was adamant about teaching me.”

Did not say that he’d never shot at a living thing at any point in time, only at empty bottles and painted targets. Hoped that he’d not be forced to, either.

Her hands lingering on his shoulders for a moment, sending a shiver down his spine.

Her voice at his back strong, though he heard the sliver of doubt.

“Ready?”

Made sure to answer reassuringly, not letting his own fear show.

“Ready!”

They wandered through the growth for a while, the ground soggy beneath their feet. There were signs of active fauna and he saw Olivier squint more than once at footprints in the mud, human and animal alike.

“Something the matter?”

She kept up with him, though he saw the footprints pulling at her concentration.

“Remember your grandfather’s birthday? The footprints I told you about? They looked like these.”

“You think…”

She shook her head.

“No matter what I think, we need to go on now. Maybe I can take a look at them later.”

He tried to smile, to ease the tension a little.

“When we manage to get ahead of Kimblee and Bradley, I’ll let you play in the mud as long as you like.”

Her eyes enigmatic, one eyebrow raised. She deadpanned.

“How generous.”

Their laughter cut short when they reached the end of the oasis, the steep stones of the Kanda Mountains looming in front of them.

“Their footprints vanish here, there needs to be…”

Stopping his own words, Miles pulled at a towering bush, looking like it had seen better days and been battered not too long ago. Behind it was a narrow hole in the stone, seeming like a cavity.

“This wasn’t here when I visited this place the last time, I’m sure! This…”

Olivier cutting into his thoughts with her own, taking her flashlight, turning it on and shining into the crack.

“Maybe it’s Kimblee’s doing, the coordinates match with what we were given after all. I mean, if he can bust part of a mountain, a crack should be no problem for him, huh?”

Miles nodding, only one question remaining.

“We squeeze through?”

The idea on paper a good one, in their thoughts too, though he regretted it as soon as he was trying to fit through the narrow space, the glasses he’d put to the front of his shirt beforehand audibly cracking when forced against the stone. Olivier having slipped through before him, though she’d complained too, was basically catching him when he finally reached the other side, almost staggering out into a tunnel.

“Stop!”

Miles did so instantly, a spike rushing up an inch from his nose. His voice an octave higher than usual when he spoke.

“That was a close one. Thank you!”

Turned around to Olivier, who unsheathed her sabre and slipped said sheath over her head. Her words a command, though one he without hesitation followed.

“Come back here, we'll set this one off from a safe distance.”

Took a good look at the tunnel they were in, letting his own flashlight ghost over the floor and walls. The tiles were the kind still made today, a traditional Ishvalan pattern, thought to be thousands of years old. The walls simply hewn into the stone, though with great care. There was paint in parts, but withered and faint.

The tiles in front of him, that seemingly tried to kill you when you stepped on them, looking identical.

His voice sounded hollow in the chilly air of the tunnel.

“There's no way to tip-toe over it?”

Watched as she shook her head, ponytail shaking in tune. Her face illuminated by the glow-stick around his neck, cracked into function by his venture through the crack.

Her features seeming sharper in that kind of light.

“There's no pattern and I'd rather not test our luck any more today.”

Handed him her sabre, which he took carefully. Saw her get on her knees in front of the tiles on the floor, with force having the sheath skid over them. And as she seemingly had anticipated, it was just heavy enough.

In quick succession spears were set off, reaching the ceiling in length, row after deadly row.

There really wasn't a pattern to any of it, suddenly a thin wall of wood in front of them. The tiles firmly set into the floor now, the sheath of her weapon laying on the hewn floor, just like the one they were standing on now.

“That's a good one.”

Handed her back her sabre, though felt her eyes on him, a brow shooting up.

Her smile a flicker in his vision.

“Just checked if your nose is still where it's ought to be.”

His mind touching it without thinking about it, making her snort.

Watched as she stepped forward with a sure gaze, efficiently getting rid of the spears in front of them with the help of her sabre.

“How do you think Kimblee and Bradley got over it?”

Saw her shrug, tried not to notice the muscles in her arms moving with every strike of her blade.

“We can’t be sure, but I’d say either alchemy, or they knew a trick we didn’t.”

The former seeming more likely to him, though instead of thinking about this more, he concentrated on the tunnel around him.

If his career as an anthropologist in the field, with his personal side-dish of dangerous explorations, had taught him anything, it was to never loose concentration in an old temple or cave. Anything of even remote importance was secured with numerous safeguards, be it traps or physical hurdles, like walls or mazes.

The spears in the entrance tunnel were only the beginning, that was the only thing he was sure of, taking every further step now with great care. Olivier doing the same, walking in front of him, the light of her flashlight flitting over walls, ceiling and floor, all made of hand-hewn stone.

Her sheath slipped over her head again, the sabre sometimes scraping along the walls, they reached a pit.

Both looking over the edge, cautiously leaning over it too, looking into the darkness below. Her voice firm when she spoke, her face close to his in the narrow tunnel.

“Can you see the bottom?”

Followed the beam of her flashlight, ghosting over the wall of stone behind the pit, the ceiling and then into the darkness below. If he squinted, he thought that he could see stone below.

Imagined that he could hear water.

“A bit. Our rope should be long enough, though we should secure it well, or we’ll never get out of there again.”

Silently they set to work, knotting the rope around a stone at the edge, jutting out prominently and showing signs of having had a rope wrapped around it not too long ago. Heard the end of their rope hit stone, though faintly. Could be sure now, that the tunnel was less than ten metres deep. Carefully Olivier pulled up the rope again then, tied their second flashlight to the end of it and turned it on.

Let the rope slowly down into the hole again, giving them a light-source while climbing.

“I’ll go first?”

Already had the rope in hand, her question answered by him with a nod.

“Be careful!”

Watched as she descended into the pit, bracing her legs against the stone, careful to not rush and hurt herself in the process.

Waved up at him when she reached the bottom without a problem, looking around before calling up.

“There’s another tunnel! Come down!”

Climbed down as quickly as she did, feeling that she held the rope at its end, keeping it from swinging around. Miles landing on his feet far more gracefully then he’d done the first time he’d climbed down something with her near.

“What about the rope?”

Olivier having untied their flashlight, handing it to him. Her own fixed on the jutting rock their rope was wound around.

He spoke decisively.

“Let’s leave it here. It could very-well be our only way out.”

Looked into her eyes for a short moment, light sparse, yet he could see a slip of hesitation.

Was sure that she usually went through her adventures without such.

“Ready to go on?”

She hesitated before nodding, one corner of her mouth showing him a half-smile. His heart feeling heavy when she voiced her worries, with what he wasn't sure. Walked beside her, every step taken with care.

“Bradley has a wife and a kid as far as I know. Never struck me as the smuggling kind of guy.”

Miles thought about that for a while, trying to remember what he knew about the man.

“There's no big discovery, as far as I know, that was made by him, but he was appointed as Dean when he was rather young, or do I remember that wrong?”

Looked ahead, eyes glued to the floor, fearing new dangers.

“Maybe he got greedy after a while? Or fed up? I mean, we can be almost sure that he and Kimblee joined forces not just here, but also in Central.”

He let out a deep breath.

“We really need to be careful then. Who allies himself with Kimblee...”

Her words completing his almost instantly.

“...must be really desperate.”

Their silence holding after that, until the hewn tunnel suddenly got wider.

Miles let the light ghost over the walls, the floor, the ceiling, trying to find anything out of the ordinary. Saw Olivier do the same out of the corner of his eye, her face scrunched up in concentration. Her teeth worrying her lip, nose crinkling.

And just when she made a step forward, seemingly having deemed the corridor safe, he heard the sound of stone grinding against stone.

Took her hand in his then, grabbed her forcefully and pulled her forwards.

Urged her to run through the corridor with him, the grinding of the stone first escalating in volume, until the clear banging sound of rocks falling filled his ears.

The sound closing in on them, the stone beneath their feet rattling, his vision almost blurred by how much the tunnel seemed to vibrate.

And at the end of it he saw two openings, each with an ishvalan sign over it, hewn deeply into the stone and painted white.

Past on the left, future on the right.

Did not think, pulled her through the right opening and when the floor was tipped downwards, turned to a slide, he held onto Olivier even tighter.

Wrapped his arms around her as soon as he could, heard his own screaming while they slid deeper into the darkness, hers mingling with it.

Water hitting them from above at one point, their screams stopping and replaced by panicked spluttering.

Their slide ending when they skid over stone again, even and unmoving, the quiet only interrupted by their heavy breathing.

Olivier was the first to find her words, her braid pressed into his face.

“How did you...?!”

“Xing, the tomb of Xiung Lee the...I don't know. Same kind of trap.”

Pulled his face from her hair, hit by her smell, how close they were. Squeezed once, testing his mobility, her body warm beneath his, wet because of the sudden water, too.

Her voice steady when she spoke.

“Thousand years’ worth of tombs and temples and they all used one design!”

And he felt her move a little at that, let go of her slowly, having found that he really didn’t want to.

Was glad for the semi-darkness masking his blush, tried to find his flashlight and failing. The glow-stick wearing off slowly but surely, though he could still make out her face, inches from his.

“Are you all right?”

Saw her nod, though he also saw hands ghosting over patches of skin that had to be aching. His knees and back hurting too, though it was manageable.

Her gaze, illuminated in a faint shimmer of green, boring into him, worried.

“And you? You took the brunt of the fall after all!”

His hands going to his pockets while he spoke, checking if everything was still there.

“I'm alright. Though I've got no idea where we are now. I seem to have lost my flashlight, do you have yours?”

Heard fingers scrap over stone, while her knee scrapped against his.

The light almost blinding when she turned it on.

Behind them was the slide, a slant of stone, water running down in a small trickle. The tunnel they now were in was huge, not hewn anymore, but made from man-made blocks of stone. They were perfectly set and there was colour on the walls, not withered at all. It went on in front of them, though Miles thought that he saw a faint light in the distance.

“Since when is there such a system of caves beneath the Kanda Mountains?!”

Her question asked breathlessly, though with good reason.

The Kanda Mountains were a slur of colours from the outside, layered and multi-coloured sediment making it an awe-inspiring sight. But it had always been thought that it was solid stone underneath. Nothing had ever even hinted at there being structures inside the mountains, unless those made by water grinding away at the stone.

His answer equally as breathless.

“Since never!”

And when they walked further, the paintings on the tunnel walls weird, unbelievable, they kept close. Unsaid thoughts hanging between them, though they both seemed to be too much on edge to voice them. Instead the trained their eyes on the light, slowly getting closer and as such, bigger.

At a certain distance Olivier turned off her flashlight, he put the glow-stick around his neck beneath his shirt. They walked more carefully, when reaching a huge doorway stopping at the frame, peering inside.

And with a firm nod, their eyes locking for a short moment, they went inside, ducking all the while.

“WE CAME HERE FOR THIS!?”

The voice having them scramble towards a small half-landing, behind which they huddled close.

Her mouthed _“Kimblee”_ not hard for him to understand.

“Now calm down, it's obviously got something to do with that last riddle!”

“OH, FUCK YOU BRADLEY! You said this would be child’s play, that the old man was really onto something!”

The voice of Dean King Bradley one they both knew, though they'd never before heard him sound like this.

“Kimblee, this _one_ riddle! Keep yourself from turning this place to rubble for a few more minutes! I got myself into hot water with relocating funding to these idiots, just so you would not have to think for yourself!”

“Then keep me from thinking Bradley, cease talking and solve that riddle!”

Miles heard how pointedly the latter spoke, that the guy was properly at the end of his patience. And that Bradley had seemingly relocated the funding just so they could follow them, probably solve the riddles for them…

“Oh, so the almighty man knows what _“two hearts connected before Ishvalas eternally red-gaze, so that the marks may be set ablaze”_ means?! I doubt it!”

“Kimblee, five minutes! Shut your trap for five minutes! I translated it, I’ll solve it!”

He felt Olivier next to him, shuffling the tiniest bit, her bare arms rubbing against his. It occurred to him that while the tunnels had been rather cold, though not enough so that either of them had been uncomfortable, this cave was warm.

It was like a mediocre summer-day in Ishval, when the sun wasn’t beating down viciously, all-around pleasant. He heard water dripping, the stone they were hiding behind crafted with skill and care, sheer white. The look he’d gotten of this place had been short, but the white stone seemed to form ranks around the whole cave, a platform in the middle. Wanted to get a better look desperately but was hyperaware of the two other man in the cave, seemingly not having noticed them yet.

Felt Olivier’s hand touch his leg softly, saw her finger point upwards.

It was beautiful, the light in this hall seemingly coming from a kind of plant above them, clinging to the jutting rock. It was luminescent, cast everything with a slightly turquoise glow and automatically his hand found Olivier’s, still resting against his leg, squeezing it once.

The voices behind them turning up in volume again, the sound of rocks being kicked heard and the distinct rippling of water, the surface irritated.

“And?!”

Wondered, not for the first time, what went on in Kimblee’s head. If it was madness, with one fire after the other. Or, scarier to him, a cruel orderliness.

“Context makes me think that two people need to do something to set this off. Maybe something with the statue? The eyes may be rubies and if we set the markings on this platform ablaze…”

Heard knuckles cracking.

“So, I should start a fire in the general direction of this thing?”

The other sounded unsure, much more like the Bradley he’d gotten to know when he sat in on the man’s lectures in Central University.

“I’m not sure, we should…”

The popping sound unmistakable, though the big bang he feared, and Olivier too by how she was squeezing his hand, not coming.

Instead he heard only a small bang then the hissing of a fire and then nothing for quite a while. Inched a bit closer to the woman next to him though, still fearing the worst.

“Well, thought that would go different.”

Miles wanting to breathe a sigh of relief, wanted to communicate silently with Olivier, to form a plan to stop these two.

Before he could, the earth beneath them started to shake.

The water he still had not seen made a sound like a big wave rushing to shore, almost thundering, almost drowning out the sound of rock breaking. It was Olivier that noticed though, pulled him to his feet and to the side.

The boulder fell where they’d sat only seconds ago, though their lucky escape had the two other men in the room notice them. All of them busy for several moments though, to keep out of harm’s way, bigger and smaller stones still falling from the ceiling, threatening their lives.

And when the rumbling stopped, him and Olivier having separated a little and drawn their weapons, Kimblee’s voice arose over the loud sloshing sound the water made.

“So, you made it still? Buccaneer finally bled out?”

Miles not falling for the anger in his gut, instead taking stock of the cave. The white stones like a terrace, leading to the middle. A platform there, though separated from the others by a distance too far to jump over. At one point only, a small stone-bridge leading to it, the other sides just setting you up to fall, and seemingly deep at that.

It looked like an arena to him, a bit like the colosseums he’d seen in Aerugo.

“Let your weapons fall and maybe we can resolve this!”

Olivier speaking up, about five feet to his right, standing on a boulder. Should they decide to shoot, she’d just have to duck behind it. Noticing how in the open he stood at that.

She had her revolver in one hand, the other on the butt of her sabre and with a start he noticed how prepared she was, how ready she was to fight for the Ark, to not let either Kimblee or Bradley get their hands on it.

The latter now seemingly trying to sound charming, his own gun holstered, his hands open.

“Miss Armstrong, are we not all here with the same goal in mind? Do we all not want the Ark for the same reasons? How about we don’t squabble like children, but share?”

His anger getting the better of him.

“A share of the profit you mean? Somewhere in this room is an artefact Bradley, no, this whole cave is! Do you know how important the Ark is to the Ishvalan culture? You think we’d just sell it?!”

Kimblee the one now waving his hands, not impatient, yet not idly either.

The pants the man wore looked like they’d seen better days, as well as Bradleys. Both looked worse for wear, seemed to have had trouble with the tunnels before this cave here. Yet, he wore a smug expression, his chin slightly tucked, an eyebrow raised, a sly smile playing along tightly pressed lips.

“Oh, how _passionate_ you are! Endearing really, but tell me, do you have enough money to pay rent? Do you really think the people walking into the museums can even appreciate what you find? Do you…”

Olivier again cutting in, seemingly fed up.

“Shut your trap Kimblee! We got only two options in this: You leave the Ark to us, or you’ll have to fight us!”

Which only elicited a laugh from the men, a grin and a few slyly spoken words.

“Well, if you insist?”

Miles could not say who fired the first shot, but the bang was loud and resonated through the cave. Nobody screamed in pain or anguish, but both, Olivier and he, started to move.

He saw her sprint towards the platform in the middle, towards the bridge leading to it, but was soon distracted by Kimblee, taking him under fire. Heard swords clash in the distance, saw, when ducking to reload, that she was locked in a fight with Bradley. The man had drawn his own sword, something he was renowned for, but found a match in Olivier.

Miles tearing his eyes away, popping out again, just to see Kimblee aiming at the sword-fighting pair.

“OLIVIER!”

The words leaving his mouth before he thought, the bang of the weapon ringing in his ears.

He heard her scream of pain, though saw her turn on the spot, bringing her weapon up again, clashing with Bradleys. Saw the blood seeping down her shoulder and the fury in her eyes.

Saw Kimblee ready another shot, saw him take aim and thusly did the same.

The man howling in pain, staggering, red blooming at his hip. Eyes swivelling to him and the thing happening he’d dreaded since first knowing that Kimblee was here, had come to Ishval.

And explosion set off behind him, shook the whole cave.

He’d been running already, was moving fast and heard explosion upon explosion.

Heard laughter too, though the clashing of sabres ceased. Felt heat lick at his back, tried to outrun it and failed. Was propelled forwards, hit the stones hard and tasted blood in his mouth.

The world spinning for many moments, sounds mixing into a nondescript mash.

Only when the ringing in his ears slowly stopped, he could differentiate the loud sloshing of water from the screaming and the swoosh of a fire burning.

His eyes finding the platform in the middle, a sabre jutting out of a hand, cleaving a crescent moon clean in two.

A scream escaping his mouth when a full-mooned hand jutted a knife forward, tearing a shout from Olivier when finding her flesh.

Was up on his feet, ran, jumping onto the small bridge from the side and jumping off it not much later. Ran towards them, their struggle still going on, though he arrived by her side just when she managed to pull her sabre form Kimblee’s hand, managing to hit his torso also, slashing deeply.

Steadied her when she staggered, a hand slung around her middle.

The one opposite of them breathing hard, still smiling so inanely. His words full of contempt.

“You need to completely destroy the array dear, did nobody tell you that?!”

Watched when the man pressed his hands to the floor, his own finding his gun again.

He shot, the sound mingling with the grinding of stone.

Kimblee slumped backwards, too close to the edge, falling.

There was still smoke from the small fires created by the explosions, the water was still sloshing loudly and yet it felt like the world reduced itself to their heavy breathing, the blood rushing through their ears.

He helped Olivier onto her knees, held her tight, the knife still sticking out of her stomach. His fingers nearing worriedly, though her voice was steady, calm, if pressed.

“It hurts Miles, but I don’t think he’s hit anything important. We just need to…”

The platform beneath them groaning, swaying.

“Think he…?”

Her question cut as short as her sentence from before, when the bridge started to crumble, to part from the stones it was attached to. The platform tipping towards the huge statue of Ishvala on one end of the room, having them slide a bit.

Finally, he saw the water he’d heard since they were here, but also saw the reason for the constant noise it made.

Something was moving in it.

Olivier seemed to have seen it too, was gripping him tightly, seemed only set on staying on this platform. Pushed with her feet, a losing battle against it slowly tipping over. Him trying the same, to no avail, her sabre sliding down and falling into the water, his gun.

Whatever that was in the water breaching the surface, an eye showing, Olivier muttering something under her breath he did not understand. Held her tight instead, slowly sliding down still, though their fall came suddenly.

With a screech the platform broke, the stone breaking with a thundering noise.

Had enough presence of mind to take a deep breath, plunging into the water several feet below. Made sure that Olivier was still by his side, forced his eyes open, saw rock sink to a bottom he could not make out.

Her struggling in his arms, seemingly having been unable to gasp for air before their fall.

Did the next best thing then, the only thing he could think of really, cupping her face with one hand and pressing his lips to hers.

Their second kiss as unromantic as their first, given so she’d have air, could survive.

And when he parted their lips, making sure to seal them tightly, he saw that this had surely been futile. Saw the thing in the water circling them, a true beast, eyeing them with a beady dark abyss of an eye.

Remembered where he’d seen it before, the little air he still had running out, flashing him a memory of books in a dimly-lit library room, the woman still securely in his arms talking to him about her favourite dinosaur.

Forced his face toward hers, wanted to look into her face rather than that of a prehistoric beast about to eat them. Saw desperation in her eyes, fear. And felt her hands circle around him tighter.

The world going black on the edges, the beast not seen by him, only her face, her eyes.

Thought silently that he’d never told her that he loved her.

And regretted it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next on is long again, so go pee! I know you haven't...


	8. The Ark of times past

The sound of waves rushing to shore was the first thing he heard upon waking up.

Felt sand brush his arms when pushing himself up on his underarms, squinting against bright light. He made out a strip of sand, a bigger strip of green on the end of it. Looked around, still fighting against the harsh light, making out her form four feet to his right.

Scrambled over in an instant, memories and fear leaping up together.

He remembered their tumble into the water now, the creature swimming through it, her having been stabbed by Kimblee, her having been shot by Kimblee.

His mind swimming between panicked, not understanding anything and pure relive, when he felt her pulse. Heard her heart beating strongly when he pressed his ear to her chest. Did hear her groan, though was busy with searching the wound the missing knife must've left, only finding irritated skin and nothing more. His hands softly skimming over skin, carefully, though he found no blood. Only a hole in the fabric of her top.

“Miles?”

Her voice croaky, as was his when he answered.

“Olivier, are you alright? How are you feeling?”

Helped her sit up slowly when she moved too, his arm wound around her shoulders. His free hand leaving her abdomen, searching her collarbones instead, trying to find where Kimblee had shot her. Only finding a second irritated and red spot, her voice pulling him out of his confusion.

“Miles, where the hell are we?!”

Looked in the direction she was looking, away from the slip of green he'd seen, now understanding why he'd heard waves rushing to shore. There was water, reaching further than he could see, the smell of salt-water hitting him. Looked up, expecting to see the sun burning down on them, the air so very warm around him.

Instead he could make out a ceiling, but just so, saw the same kind of luminescent plant he'd seen in the cave before.

“Olivier, what was that in the water?! Did we imagine it?”

Stood up with her when she moved to, keeping close to her, still thinking about the blood, the panic from before and at the same time sure that he'd soon have to panic again.

Her eyes wide, her usually guarded face completely open, testament to the madness everything had been up until now.

“A Mosasaur, some kind of it. My bets on Tylosaurus, but that's utterly impossible...”

“Because they are extinct?”

Nodded like she was in a trance, her voice almost haughty.

“For a fucking long time.”

Turned then, saw the dense greenery in front of them and gasped, swore under her breath.

And he really saw it for the first time too, before too preoccupied with the very real possibility of Olivier being mortally wounded, of her being dead.

Before him was a lush jungle, the plants juicy and huge, a mix of sweet smells hitting his nose. There was this smell of freshly fallen rain on fertile plant-growth, the thickness of a flowers odour. Heard rustling coming from the trees and palm trees, though there was no wind blowing.

A structure in the distance, like a tower, seemingly made from the sheer white stone they'd seen in the chamber above.

“Should we go there, see what we can find out?”

Her hand around his wrist, squeezing tightly, showing him how nervous, confused she was. Her face set though, looking ready to take on the world and win.

Noticed then, looking at her pale-fingers wrapped around his wrist, that there was a mark over his pulse-point, shaped like a diamond. Saw the same on her arm, pointed it out to her, though they both heeded it little more than a quick look and a short thought. Deeming other things more pressing.

Nodded, their skin not parting, both keeping close to the other.

His gun was gone, the knife in his boot too. Her sabre was nowhere to be seen either, not even its sheath, though it had still been slung over her head when they'd fallen into the water. They were dry too, free of dirt, though a bit sandy.

The jungle lush around them, quiet, not an animal or something else in sight. The question on his mind tumbling out, though he wasn't sure why he was whispering.

“How can something like this exist? It doesn't make sense, how big this cave is, how...”

Her answer a whisper too, quiet and heartfelt.

“When I was ten, my brother made me a horse-figurine from a clump of dirt, using alchemy. I think there's many things possible...”

His hand squeezing hers, his heart beating out of his chest.

Was this the afterlife? Had they been eaten by the beast in the water and were in limbo? He'd lost consciousness, the being still circling around them. Would Ishvala stand before them soon, red eyes judging them? Or was it something else? And where was the Ark, how did his grandfather’s notes lead to this?

Asked her all of these questions, her answer short.

“I don't know.”

Saw a bit of fear in her eyes, though they kept on walking, hand in hand, on a path through the jungle someone seemed to have walked before and often.

Spoke into the silence, only broken by the waves in the distance, their feet on the dirt, the rustling of leaves around them.

“What happened to Bradley?”

The man had not been in the chamber anymore when he'd rushed to Olivier's side, had ceased his fighting when Kimblee started to use his devastating kind of alchemy. Maybe he'd fallen into the waters below, eaten by the beast he still did not want to believe existed.

“Fled. As soon as Kimblee started to clap his hands to the floor.”

“And you let him?”

Her shrug telling him everything he needed to know.

She'd not kill him, not when there was another way. Did not know why Bradley did what he'd done, but that there maybe was a reason for it. That there was a police-force for crimes and that they should care about that.

Was pulled from his thoughts when she stopped suddenly, looking at a rivulet flowing next to the path they were walking on, an animals footprints in the mud.

“Are these the...?”

His question not complete because she was pulling him with her, crouching before the marks and speaking excitedly.

“These were the ones I talked to you about, the same we saw at the oasis! This means...”

Was looking at him, blue eyes wide with something he knew was unbridled happiness.

“There's a way out! This thing here is somehow connected to the surface!”

Was as elated at her, the notion, now feeling silly to him, that this was the afterlife forgotten.

They hurried along the way now, following the footprints and the walkway, both staying close together., him and her and the water and the path.

Reached the tower in no time, the sheer stone really the same they'd seen before. For the first time he truly noticed the things etched into it, people and what he thought to be animals, side by side. The scenes were numerous, some shapes he did not recognize, yet Olivier muttered Latin names, her fingers softly brushing over the etchings. A doorway leading inside, open, nothing barring their way in.

Muddy footprints inside.

“Is it a smart idea to go inside there now?”

Her hand squeezing his again, tightly, her words so sure, her smile so sincere.

“Was it a smart idea to fight against Kimblee and Bradley? To come here after Buccaneer has been shot? To follow the footprints that look suspiciously like that of a huge prehistoric carnivore?”

Pulled her in then, with a deep breath.

His eyes adjusting to the sudden decrease in brightness only slowly. He could make out a winding staircase in the middle, going up and down. Saw something akin to windows, shelves and what seemed to be a table. Took a few moments more to adjust, Olivier pointing towards a transparent, hung up at the staircase, facing the door.

He knew the handwriting.

_“They will not hurt you.”_

Read the words aloud, not able to grasp the truth for a moment, was pulled out of his reverie, this revelation, when Olivier made a small sound between a scream and a yelp.

In front of them suddenly stood a thing.

It looked a bit like a salamander, though it would be a very big salamander. The four legs it held itself upright on were short, ending in webbed feet. Not that the beast in and on itself was short in anyway, rather larger than them, at least fourteen feet in length, maybe even more. It's tail huge and looking like it was made from pure muscle, the head large and bulbous, very wide. A black and beady eye looking at them, hard to see against the brownish skin of the animal.

With a start he thought, that it could lay down in mud and become almost invisible.

“Olivier, what are you doing?!”

She'd let go of his hand, had made a step towards the beast, her hand outstretched. The thing was making something akin to a humming noise at that, its tail swishing slightly.

“They're not going to hurt us.”

Said it like in a trance, whispering, got onto one knee in front of the thing, it being long instead of tall. Her hand hovering over its head, though she seemed afraid to just touch it.

Before he could plead with her to stop, to step back, _to tell him what this was again_ , the beast took matters into its own hands.

Or head rather, because that was what it pressed up and into Olivier’s hand.

An almost silence stretched on for several minutes, the only sounds coming from the beast, making sounds that seemed to mean that it was content. Olivier's hand slowly and carefully touching its head, feeling the skin, a look of pure awe on her face.

He whispered.

“Olivier, what is that?!”

Her free hand stretching behind her, grabbing for his, pulling him down next to her. She spoke with a smile in her voice, her eyes shining when she turned to him.

“That's Koolasuchus, simply put a kind of ancient amphibian. And its skin is _slimy.”_

Pulled at his hand some more, forced it against his lack of struggling to feel the creature.

Marvelled at the cold skin, how wet and, indeed, slimy it was. The words escaping him for a moment, though a smile came to his face too.

“Olivier, this handwriting is my grandfathers, he was here, he knows about this place. This is, this...”

She completed his sentence, looking him in the eyes, smiling.

“Yes, this is the Ark.”

Their hands stilled, his breath hitched and before anything more could happen, they fell flat on their asses, pushed by a certain Koolasuchus.

And like he wasn't feeling lucky enough already, Olivier started to laugh. A sound loud and happy and one he'd missed dearly.

“We did not pet him anymore!”

Giggled some more, flat on the floor, him joining in. The huge beast putting his head on her legs, making a sound of discontent at the lack of attention.

Miles the first to sit up again, pulling her into an upright position, giving the Koolasuchus, and he definitely wondered why he learned to pronounce that so fast, a pat on the head.

“Let her go big boy.”

Which the creature did, getting a few more pets as a thank you from her, before slowly walking out of the building, towards the water nearby.

Silence stretching between them, the shock setting in. Her eyes as wide as his, a shiver running through her.

“Did we just pet a creature that's officially extinct for millions of years?!”

Nodded affirmative to that, his finger pointing upwards.

“Should we go take a look? Maybe my grandfather left us more notes?”

Was pulled by her, hand around his wrist, after a second of thinking the stairs downward taken first. Let himself be led by her intuition.

It was a longer staircase, though light shimmered from the walls of it. Felt like an eternity still, before they stepped out of it. Right into a huge circular room, seemingly deeply below the surface. In the distance was a wall of blue and he walked towards it together with her.

Their whispered words coming quick, both speaking quietly, almost whispering in awe.

“I can hardly believe any of this.”

“Did you think Zosimos sent us on this journey with this in mind? You and me down here, in this Ark?”

“My grandfather does nothing without a reason, though I really thought he only sent us off together for, you know...”

Stopped speaking for a moment, her steps also. Silence stretching for all of five seconds, before she spoke with a serious face.

“Truth or dare?”

He swallowed around the instant-lump in his throat.

“Truth.”

“Why did you not kiss me back the day before our graduation?”

Was taken with how calm she was, though her eyes were a storm of emotions. The light from the not-so-distant-anymore wall of blue illuminating her face, seemingly making her eyes glow.

“I was too stunned that you'd ever consider liking me that way. I regretted not kissing you back the second you left.”

Saw the words sink in, her expression still serious. Spoke into the silence.

“Truth or dare?”

Her voice still strong, a flicker of humour shining through.

“I got here first.”

Countered it, with a resolve he did not know he possessed.

“We fell together, at the same time. So, truth or dare?”

Her answer whispered.

“Dare.”

Did not need to think about it.

“Do something you always wanted to try.”

Her lips on his not as insistent this time, softer instead, tentative. His own returning the pressure, the way her lips felt intoxicating, his hands moving of their own accord. One cupping her chin, a thumb brushing her earlobe, the other winding around her waist, landing on the small of her back.

Pulled her as close as he could to him, while one of her hands brushed a sideburn, the other flat on his chest.

Lack of air the only thing parting their lips again, though he could not open his eyes for a while after. Rested his forehead against hers, breathing with her, thumb brushing over her cheek. Hers doing the same, leaving his side-burn and brushing along under his eye, taking the wetness with it wordlessly.

He pressed a kiss to her forehead then, pulled her impossibly closer, resting his chin on top of her hair.

“We're a pair of fools, aren’t we?”

His whispered, and hypothetical, question only answered by small snicker and a few minutes of them just being close, breathing the other, before they parted.

Wordlessly and hand in hand they walked to the blue in the distance, soon noticing that it was water, held at bay with what seemed to be a very thick kind of glass. Behind it swam creatures of all kinds, a back-wall was not to be seen either. Him staring open-mouthed, while Olivier pressed her nose to the glass in excitement, again listing Latin names.

Her wide smile reflected in the glass, a calloused finger pointing and quietly explaining to him the differences between Dallasaurus turneri and Mosasaurus hoffmannii. The Thalattosaur she showed to him, something he'd never heard of before. And when he pointed at what he thought to be a Megalodon she laughed, asking him if he'd seen that godawful movie.

Both shutting up when a beast they'd both seen before showed up, the first to truly heed them any mind, a black eye boring into them.

“It's a Tylosaurus, right?”

Felt her nod rather than seeing it, standing behind her, arms around her middle like they'd been when first looking into these eyes.

Her words a hoarse whisper, her hands still on the glass.

“It saved us.”

Put his hand over hers, tried to discern what that beast, looking magnificent in the blue hue of the water, though at the same time terrifying, thought.

The spell only broken when it dived deeper again.

“We should go up, see if your grandfather left us more.”

And they did, not hand in hand anymore, though still close.

Felt a flutter in his stomach every second he looked at her, felt his heart throb and a happiness that was almost unbearable. An overwhelming feeling paired with the shock he felt at what they found, this Ark seemingly having preserved live thought long to be extinct.

Climbing up the stairs to the room they came in at, and then climbing further up even, he listened to Olivier ramble.

“They are from different time-periods, though they all seem to coexist. And I can’t even fathom how this thing here was build, how it even works and sustains itself! Just think how far this could reach, how many species we could find?!”

A truth hitting him, stopping him in his tracks.

“Olivier, we can't tell anybody about this.”

Watched her turn, her braided hair swinging slightly, lovely. Her face calm, though she looked just a little bit crestfallen.

“I know.”, said it like it pained her. “There'd be people poaching and trying to steal them. They'd be...”

Took her hand, holding it tightly. Her words more happy and hopeful almost in an instant.

“But I can check if my theories were right, how certain species look and behave. I'll finally be able to make drawings, simply with the clear conscience that I did them right. And I can tell that asshole Raven to suck my dick with confidence, if he wants to debunk my theories!”

Laughed, relieve flooding him for what had to be the hundredth time today.

The rest of the stairs was quickly climbed up then, him walking behind her, the room they entered cut into several sections by white stone-walls. They separated to explore, shouting back and forth their findings.

“This looks like a makeshift bathroom!”

“I found a well-stocked pantry!”

“This one here was used as a bedroom.”

“There are notes here and books! And Olivier, I see pencils and pap...”

His words stopped by the creature before him, looking in through the open walls, head leaning on the parapet.

A yelp maybe having escaped him, Olivier's footsteps rushing towards him.

“Miles, are you all....ahh fuck!”

His voice a bit shaky, his eyes not straying away from the huge reptilian creature in front of him.

“Olivier....what is that?!”

The snout was long and thin, at least for a being of that size. Smart eyes following his every move, a small hump over them, almost seeming like a brow. He could make out teeth though, long and looking sharp. The neck strong, the walls omitting a lot of the beings body, though he could make out that there was a huge kind of shield on its back.

The skin glistening with wetness, seeming dark, though a mix of brown and grey and green shimmered towards him.

Olivier speaking slowly, while he heard her inching towards him.

“'Spinosaurus cretarus. Water-dwelling, eats fish and mammals. We think it hunts on land and in the water.”

The beast inching its head closer, sniffing him audibly. Clicked its jaw once, moved, and he was almost sure that his life would be over now.

Instead, he was bopped in the chest. Very softly.

Felt Olivier's hand at his back, still standing frozen, though his muscles relaxed slowly. Though about the words his grandfather had written for them, that they'd not be hurt, sure that the men had left them even more.

Breathed deeply and outstretched his hand.

Instead of slimy, this one was warm and wet. Did not whine at his contact like the salamander-one that greeted them first had, but grumbled lowly, resting its head again on the parapet.

Olivier's smile so easy to hear.

“It likes you!”

Was bopped once more, much to her amusement, though she was next. Were left alone when the Spinosaurus was seemingly content with them, looking around some more, finding notes.

He read to her the words his father had written down in ishvalan, though he knew that she could read that just fine. Laughed at her comment that his reading voice was just that nice, though indulged her anyways.

They learned that the Ark had been built in a time the written word had not existed, that those coming before them called it a gift of Ishvala. That it was to prevail, to make sure that when the circle of life started anew, something to start it with was existing. That guardians were chosen when those before them could not do their duty anymore and that it sustained itself. But that it's habitants had to be cared for and looked after periodically, so they'd be there.

“For what?”

Olivier asked easily, lounging on the mattress they'd found, while he read to her.

They'd spent the remainder of the day inspecting the place, the blonde almost squealing with every new species they encountered. Had found pencils and paper in one of the supply-boxes, had started to draw.

Sometimes kissing him between pencil-strokes.

“For when the world begins anew.”

Stretched his legs out, feeling the long day in his bones, resting his bare feet against her calves.

“Your grandfather really sent us around.”

There was no malice in her voice, only drowsiness and a slight smile. She'd tried to pet every dinosaur they'd seen, had given some of them names already. Was elated and happy and so open in a way he'd never seen before yet endeared to immediately.

“We'll get back at him for that.”

Her snort setting up another wave of laughter, before he let himself fall onto the mattress, right next to her.

The air was still warm, the sounds of the beings long extinct around them somehow calming. In the distance he heard the water rushing to shore, heard Olivier's even breathing too and sighed.

They had a lot more to learn, to find out. How would they leave, how often would they have to return? What was to do so this magnificent place could remain as it was? Would their absence be noted? How was Buccaneer, what would Bradley say? What...

“Sleep!”

Olivier inching closer, throwing an arm over his chest.

They'd stayed close, were both still taken with all that this day had offered them. Accepted it readily, feeling that it was right. Happiness surging through him when he spoke into her hair with a smile, earning himself a chuckle.

“Yes Ma'am!”


	9. Epilogue

“Took him long enough!”

Getta calling after him, the sweet girl, though her plea for him to be careful went unheard.

He'd waited for weeks now, wondered when he'd hear something from his grandson or Olivier. The Kaswara brothers had said upon inquiry that nobody had seen the two at the market either, nor in the city. A few people had driven up to the Kanda Mountains after the rockslide, but their jeeps had neither been found at the famed oasis, nor underneath the rubble. It was believed that they'd driven further north and had rounded the mountains.

After rolling down the ramp roughly, cursing under his breath, his grandson greeted him with a raised hand.

“Hey grandpa!”

Seemed happy, though that did not keep his retort in check.

“Took you long enough Javed! What kept you for so long?”

Was giddy, could hardly wait to hear what his grandson thought about the legacy left by their ancestors. The diamond had vanished from his arm a few weeks ago, he knew as such that the Ark had new caretakers. Had thought that they'd arrive here before the midsummer-festivities, having stressed that it would be _the latest_ he wanted to see them here.

His grandson still talking cheerfully, pushing him up the ramp to the house again.

“The big empty of the ishvalan desert! I searched the mountains you send us all to for a long time after all!”

Curiosity getting the better of him as soon as they reached the study.

“And, what did you find?”

His eagerness seemingly angering his grandson a little, who furrowed his brows and looked less than impressed.

“Nothing grandpa and I'm pretty sure you knew that. Armstrong tried it a bit further south but had no luck either. What was that for, by the way? Waisted us both a good few weeks!”

Deflated at these words, seemingly visibly, because Miles piped up again, more worried now.

“Or was it not a joke? Where we supposed to find something then? Because there were others searching the area too...”

“Who?!”

Is question quick, angsty, because he knew who had followed them, but also that one of them had vanished, the other believed to have been seen in Xing.

“Solf Kimblee and the Dean of Central, King Bradley. Saw them the first few days in Ishval, then nothing.”

Miles shrugging, tugging at the dress shirt, setting the cuffs right. Was dressed well today, probably to make a good impression when the guests arrived. Would surely change later, for the midsummer-festivities a garb of lofty pants and kameez normal for men.

Tried to fight his nervousness at this news down, asking around wildly, though tried to keep his voice as evenly calm as always.

“And the lovely Olivier?”

Miles raised a brow.

“Made every step of this journey unnecessarily difficult! And when we reached the desert she moved south after a while, searching there.”

His stretched _“And?”_ met with lips being set into a thin line.

“And nothing! We fought, she said I was getting into her way too often now. But she's going to be here, according to her brother at least.”

Masked his sigh with a cough.

“So, you didn't?!”

“Didn't what, grandpa?”

He kept quiet after that, feeling anxious.

Javed left the room soon, still grumbling about an utterly pointless journey and time he'd have spent better with his research.

Zosimos, meanwhile, got ready for the festivities, tried to put on his usual charming smile when the first guests arrived, the falling of the night only noticeable when one looked at the clock.

It was the nature of midsummer, that it did not get dark.

The neighbours would come, they did so for decades, as well as friends and family. There'd be music and food and drink, the priests from the temple would come too, to sing a prayer at midnight.

It had always been his favourite festivity in every cultures calendar and he'd hoped that year, after his legs had finally given out a year ago, that he'd give the Ark into fresh and trusty hands. That his grandson would finally tell the woman he so clearly loved, the truth.

That they'd come here together, hand in hand maybe, the marks over their pulse-points and a smile on their faces.

And instead he now had to worry about the two slimiest men he knew, ready to sell what they found instead of preserving it, having gotten their grubby hands on one of the biggest secrets this planet probably had to offer.

People asked him about his gloomy face the whole evening and he could not answer.

His salvation a jeep pulling up, loud and hazardously driven and when parked almost touching the car next to it. Out of it got Olivier Mira Armstrong, as always, a sight for sore eyes, a huge portfolio under her arm.

Was clad in a summer-dress, long and lofty, off-white. It always reminded him off his late wife, Ishvala bless her soul, when he saw the woman move, so fierce and self-assured. Her hair open and curly, a big hat on her head that hid her expression until she got near. Was relieved that she seemed quite content to him, not as angry as his grandson was. Kissed her on either cheek when she leaned down to greet him, their ritual still standing after so many years, drachman in nature. Up close saw why she wore the hat.

That she'd burned and peeled at least twice over the last month, freckles unearthed.

Wanted to feel guiltier at that, though stopped himself from it. Knew that he'd have to make phone calls as soon as the festivities were over, that intruders were in the Ark, that it probably still had no new guardians.

Rather was under threat of being raided, wondering if the two men now bore the marks, if the Ark...

Her hand warm when it shook his, pulling him from his gloomy thoughts, professionalism a necessity with so many people around. Her voice calm when she greeted him, as nice as it always was, her question if there was a quiet place to go taking him a bit off-guard.

He wiggled his eyebrows at her, earning himself the expected scoff.

“Off course dear, let's go to my study. If you'd help me?”

She did so without hesitation, pushing him up the ramp in the backyard, closing the door behind them too. Two rooms further they were alone then, the light dimmed, though he was ready for a right tongue-lashing, deserved by a, for her, fruitless trip into the desert.

“Listen dear, I know that you're mad at me for sending you on this wild goose-chase, but you've got to...”

Cut into him with a “tch”, so very much fitting her usual severe demeanour.

“Zosimos Miles, do you want to see what I found on this wild goose-chase, or not?”

Nodded then, taken aback.

Could it be that she'd found what his grandson hadn't? Scanned her wrists with a quick look, bracelets making it unable to see anything. Watched as she pulled up a chair, getting the portfolio that had lain in his lap while she'd pushed his chair.

Sat down next to him and handed over the leather-padded map.

“What...?”

Patience had never been her strength.

“Open it up and take a look!”

He did, the first page only a study of claws and teeth, feathers and scales, clearly done by lead-pencil.

He always forgot that she'd a minor in art.

A smile coming to his face, almost unbidden, though he tried to fight it, did not dare to hope.

“Olivier, dear, is that...?”

She shook her head, the long tresses softly skidding over the paper with a rasping sound.

“Look at the next page.”

He did, confronted with a drawing of…

“That's Pinch!”

Sat more upright in an instant, felt lively, happy, relieved and sad, everything together.

Traced the lines on the paper, coloured pencil, seeming like a perfect copy of the one being that had touched him last when he'd left the Ark, never to return.

Everything was right, from colours to expression, every scale was like he remembered it. The gentle slope of the head, what seemed like a brow over the eyes, darker than the rest. The shield on the back, big and impressive and adorned with mud and plant-live. The strong and muscled legs, glistening from the water Pinch usually dwelled in.

“I called her Bop, because she constantly did that to me.”

Could not answer, though he heard the smile in her voice, the fondness.

Leafed through her magnificent drawings, saw pictures of all his friends, nearly all that he'd cared for so long there. Was taken by the picture drawn of Megara, the Tylosaurus that had brought him and his wife into the Ark so many decades ago. Admired her beautiful colour, the light playing on her skin, the others swimming around her.

The second to last was a picture of The Escapist, the Koolasuchus that had left the premises, had urged him to find someone to follow in his footsteps.

A sudden sadness overtaking him when he thought of his grandson, how sure he'd been that it would be him, too.

The memory of his wife and him, hand in hand on the platform in front of Ishvala's ruby eyes, only a day before midsummer. They'd in their confusion hugged, kissed, wept, had translated the text again and again.

And only when he'd leaned against her in confusion and exhaustion, holding her hand tight, the basin of water had seemingly opened, deepened, Megara showing up.

He'd never see these wonders, would not continue something that had been passed down their family-line for so many generations. And seemingly he'd also though wrong about Olivier and him, maybe had only seen what he wanted to see, instead of what was the truth.

Took a deep breath, turning towards Olivier. She did not let him speak.

“There's one more Zosimos, I've found one more thing at the Ark.”

Was weary now, tired.

“Olivier, I'm just happy that you found it, not those others I heard off. But I'd like a break, need time to...”

She scoffed, though she did it with a smile, blue eyes sparkling with something akin to mischief, her hat in her hands, fondled almost nervously.

“Just do as I say for once old man? And I can't believe that I'm saying this, but pretty please?”

Did so then, with a heavy sigh and giving her a side-eyed look.

Was glad that he was already sitting, or it probably would've thrown him off his feet.

There was his grandson, undeniably. Standing at the balcony of the Ark, Pinch, the still so impressive Spinosaurus, pressing her head to him. His smile seeming so real, so close to what he associated with the man that he'd loved since his son had first lain him in his arms, proud beyond believe.

A sketch of him sleeping on the same page, another where he was at the edge of the water, waving at an unmistakable Megalodon-fin in the distance, excitement clear. Him sitting on an overturned tree, shirt off, laughing. The hint of a blush on Olivier's face only seen through the tears welling up in his eyes.

Knew that he was smiling like an idiot, quickly moved the paper away when the first tear fell onto it, not wanting to ruin these masterpieces.

Clapped the map shut, obviously having missed the sound of the door to his study sliding open.

“And, what do you think grandpa?”

The smile on his favourite, and only, grandsons face not unlike some crocodiles.

He was happy and deeply shook.

“You played me!”

Olivier next to him laughing, Miles too, coming to sit down next to her, winding his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close.

And in the midsummer-garb he wore, the long and white kameez, Zosimos could now see the diamond-shaped lines over Javed's pulse-point, no longer hidden by his cufflinks. Olivier noticing his gaze, parting her bracelets for him, the black lines so stark against her skin.

“You brought it onto yourself old man! You...”

Olivier talking over his grandson, voice deadly serious.

“And you have been close to a living Tylosaurus, without telling me! Explain yourself!”

Froze, did not know if she was truly serious until she started laughing loudly, Javed and him still looking on in shock.

Chuckled then.

“You've got a weird kind of humour Olivier Armstrong!”

The blonde shrugging, his grandson smiling wider than he'd ever seen.

His heart calm and full seeing them together, knowing the Ark to be safe, too. The friends he'd made so many decades ago would be save, would prosper under the new care. A nick of fear staying though, not completely gone yet.

“About Bradley and Kimblee?”

“Bradley fled, though I’m pretty sure he saw nothing of importance.”

Miles completing her words, brows closely knit together.

“Buccaneer brought us news about him having fled to Xing and his wife and son having vanished.”

Nodded, a slight smile coming to his face.

“How’s the big guy?”

Olivier deadpanning.

“Better then when he was shot. Was out and about when we left the Ark, waiting for us in the city. On his way to North City, they want his expertise on some text.”

Nodded, one last negative thought nagging the back of his mind.

“Kimblee?”

It was Miles that made a motion with his hands, stretching his arms out in front of him. Lifted one, letting it snap back down quickly, the sound of his hands meeting echoing through the room.

He breathed deeply.

“I hope Megara did not get an upset stomach from him.”

Neither laughing, none happy that it had to come to this, though not overly happy either.

Chatted a few more minutes with the two, before they all decided to return to the party. Olivier put her portfolio between those on his shelve, ready to pick it up when she and Javed would leave. His grandson pushing him through the corridors all the while, where he was greeted by his friends and family with a shout, all wondering where he’d been.

The sun over the mountains in the far distance almost looking red when midnight chimed, bathing the couples dancing in the garden in a ruby light.

Softly touched where his mark had once been. Watched Javed and his love dance, the people cheer, heard the priests chant. His happiness mingling with a pang of sadness, sparing a thought for the adventures lost, the love of his live waiting next to Ishvala for him. And with a sigh thought if the time had come to ask about great-grandchildren.

The exasperated looks would be worth the chiding after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love you all for sticking with this :D
> 
> Happy Birthday Dylan <3

**Author's Note:**

> I love you Dylan <3  
> Thank you Stellarparalax :D
> 
> And now for the still awfully wooden-sounding part (gosh, I need to update it):
> 
> This story is part of [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), whose goal is to improve communication between readers and authors. I invite you to leave:
> 
> _Short comments_   
>  _Long comments_   
>  _Questions_   
>  _Constructive criticism_   
>  _Reader-reader interaction_   
>  _extra-kudos as <3_
> 
> I reply to every comment, though it sometimes takes me a day, or two.
> 
> I thank you for reading this fic of mine through to the end. I appreciate all comments and kudos and should you want to get into direct contact with me [this is my tumblr](http://illidria.tumblr.com/)


End file.
